It was already dark again when Buffy woke up from a deep, dreamless sleep. Once she had opened her eyes it took her a moment to realize where she was. Her surroundings were completely dark. It was new moon, she knew, and so no light seeped though the creaks between the boards of the small shed. The moist cold of the hard floor seemed to have permeated Buffy’s bones and she stretched her arms and legs to get some feeling back into them. Also, her throat felt a little itchy, and she coughed once to clear it. Damn, they had to stop sleeping outside, it was really no good. Sharing a small bed with Spike didn’t seem so bad anymore compared to this. Sharing a small bed with Spike didn’t seem so bad anymore, anyway, she thought. “Oh, no, bad thought!” she admonished herself. Speaking of Spike, where was he? Buffy turned around and peered into the darkness. There was no sign of Spike laying anywhere. No leather coated vampire. And the building was really tiny, she would be able to see him from wherever she sat.

Cold fear gripped Buffy’s heart as she realized he was gone. “What?” she croaked, swallowing hard. Where is he?, she thought, worried beyond measure. She had just got him back, saved him, and now he was gone? Did something happen, or did he leave her? Both possibilities seemed too horrible to think of.

Buffy got up and half-stumbled to the rotten board that functioned as the place’s door. Just then this makeshift door swung open and Spike stepped into the shed. The bright needlepoints of the stars were by no means strong enough to illuminate the world, and yet it seemed his pale face was brightened, a grin fixed in place.

“Ah, you’re up,” he said cheerily. “Didn’t think you’d appreciate being woken when I left. Looked like you were sleeping quite soundly.”

“Where the hell have you been?” Buffy blurted out.

“What?” he said defensively. “I was hungry. Got me a bite to eat, is all.” He held up his right hand, clutching a large dead rabbit. The small animal’s fur was covered in blood, and so was Spike’s hand. He put it to his mouth and licked the blood of fingers, savoring the taste. “Gave me a helluva headache, but now we both got a meal,” he grinned proudly.

“Eeuw.” Buffy couldn’t believe what she saw. He had caught a rabbit? How gross.

“What, the hare or the blood?” Spike asked.

“Both.” Buffy rolled her eyes. Then, curious despite her disgust, she asked, “How did you catch it?”

“Vampires. Quick and all. It’s a predatory thing.”

“Oh, right.”

“So, you fancy a bite then?” He held out the bloody furry thing.

Buffy shrunk back. “Eeuw again. That’s so gross. Umm, no thanks.” It had been ages since she’d last eaten, and she could feel her stomach scream for food. But not for dead rabbit, she told herself. It was gross, and kind of sad, too. She had had a rabbit when she was a kid, and she couldn’t fathom the thought of killing a cute cuddly little thing like that. Spike was evil, of course, she thought. He’d probably enjoyed breaking the animal’s neck.

“Since when have you gone all veggie?”

“Haven’t. Not veggie, I mean. But that rabbit-“

“Hare.”

Buffy stared at him. “Okay, hare, fine. That poor thing… you know maybe… maybe it had a family somewhere, little hares waiting for it to come back to their lair, or whatever it’s called, and now they’re all alone, and--”

Now it was Spike’s turn to roll his eyes. “And what? Poor thing? Little hares? C’mon Slayer, it’s the law of nature. Food chain and all that.” When Buffy didn’t seem convinced, he continued, “And what about the poor cows you usually eat? Oh wait, they come chopped and packaged.”

“Yeah, and not furry and dripping with blood and with eyes on them. Okay, so… so it’s hypocritical,” said Buffy exasperated, “So what?”

“Welcome to the real world then,” Spike said. “Can’t tell me you aren’t famished.”

There was no point in denying that. “Yeah…” Buffy said slowly. “So?”

“Well we’re kind of far from civilisation, as far as they’ve got any here, so would you rather starve or eat a bit of hare? It’s quite tasty.”

“Starve,” Buffy replied incredulously.

“Suit yourself then. I’ll eat this baby m’self.” He stepped out again, leaving Buffy feeling even more hungry at the thought of crispy roasted meat. That is, she assumed he knew a way to prepare the meat for consumption, and didn’t expect her to eat it raw. The thought nearly made her gag. She was hungry though, very hungry. After another second of pondering, Buffy changed her mind and followed Spike out into the broad field. It was cool outside, but not unpleasant. Crickets sang their evening song, telling her the night was still young. Their voices mixed with the rustling of the stream running down the hill nearby. To the right of the shed the stallion stood, munching away on an abundance of grass. Spike knelt down in front of the wooden building and laid the hare on the ground. He looked up as Buffy stood next to him. “Changed your mind?”

“I guess,” Buffy sighed.

“Though you would.”

The smug triumph in his voice made Buffy want to smack him. Before she got to do anything of the sort though, Spike pulled a pocket knife out of his coat and proceeded to skillfully peel strips of skin off the hare. Buffy bit back another ‘eeuw’ at the sight and said, “Why am I not surprised you know how to skin something?”

“Yeah, well…” Spike let the implications of that answer dissolve in the air. Truth was, he’d never skinned anything other than a couple of hares and deer, and he’d never much enjoyed the task, either. For no real reason, he decided to let her in on that particularly memory. “Y’know,” he started, while continuing working on the hare, “Only thing I ever skinned were some hares and a deer, back when I was human. ‘Bout twelve years old, I was. The old dad was a big fan of hunting, kind of a society thing, and he wanted me to learn how to do it, so I got to help the cook.”

He kept quiet about how much he’d hated skinning the tender animals, or how he’d cried all night afterwards because his young poet’s hands had been stained with the blood of the lambs. None of her business, that. That was the first time he’d seen death up close, frozen in the eyes of the wild animals while he had to take off their skin. The rigid look of fear had scared twelve-year old William. He had come to love seeing it in his victims’ eyes as a vampire.

“Oh.” Buffy felt somewhat relieved. The image the topic of skinning had put in her head had been pretty nasty, and she’d rather not think of Spike’s bloody past now. Not when they were stuck with each other, forced to spend so much time together. Not when he smiled so sadly at some thought he wouldn’t share. Besides, she was still concentrating on working the ‘eeuw’, that had surfaced at the thought of eating the rabbit, out of her system. Spike was right though, it was either eat the poor animal or starve. Kill or be killed. Suddenly it was as if she saw Spike in a whole different light. Kill or be killed, top of the food chain. It was a predatory thing. Instead of the murderer she used to see when she looked at him, she now saw a predator, a lion, or more like a cheetah perhaps. Hunting, killing to live, to eat… it was very disconcerting. She shook her head, trying to rid it off the strange thought and getting back her Slayer’s feel for killing vampires. Oh, she still felt like killing vamps, she really did. Predators or murderers, what did it matter if they killed people? They were the enemy. But Spike was somewhat different now. He couldn’t kill anymore, or well, he could kill hares, obviously, but he didn’t kill people anymore. She didn’t want to think about how the situation would be different if he didn’t have the chip. But then again, if he didn’t have the chip, they wouldn’t have been in this situation in the first place. She would’ve staked him long ago then… or would she? It occurred to Buffy that although she had beaten the toughest enemies; the Master, Angelus, even a pure demon like the Mayor, she had never managed to stake Spike. Of course, he was a good fighter, but he was by no means stronger than the Master, or the Mayor. Had she maybe never put her heart in it? Ooh, bad thought, bad, confusing thought. Thankfully, Spike interrupted her highly annoying thought process by holding up the now thoroughly skinned hare.

“Don’t push it,” Buffy said, turning away.

“You could at least bloody well say thank you,” Spike grumbled.

“Thank you,” Buffy said solemnly, putting a smile on his face. “We’re not going to eat it raw are we?”

Spike pulled his pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his duster. A lighter sat nestled in between his last two cigarettes. “Fuck, I’m runnin’ out of smokes,” he complained as his fished the lighter out of the pack. He got up and took a few minutes to gather some dry grass and a loose board of the shed, breaking the latter into pieces. Buffy admired the skill with which he quickly built a small fire. He had obviously done that before too, she thought.

Soon after that they were sitting side by side in front of the crackling fire. The flames licking at the night sky cast dancing shadows on the wall of the shed, and on the black back of the stallion standing next to it. Snorting and scraping his foot over the ground, the horse seemed even more impatient to continue their journey than they were. We should give him a name, Buffy thought, absent-mindedly. Meanwhile Spike handed her a roasted piece of hare meat. As she set her teeth in it, Buffy judged from the toughness of the meat that the thing had not been young. Also the meat was a bit dry because Spike had drank pretty much all of the animal’s blood before they had roasted it. Still, her hunger made the meal heavenly, and she munched happily on a tiny hare thigh.

“Well?” Spike said, licking his fingers for the nth time since they’d started eating.

Buffy stared at the tongue lapping at the long fingers, tracing them from the mouse of his hand to the fingertips and back. “I wish he’d stop doing that,” she thought, distracted.

“It’s so… annoying.” But she knew that wasn’t what she really thought. Not annoying, no, sexy. Very sexy…

Spike looked at her amusedly. “Hello, earth to Slayer.”

“Huh?” Buffy started out of her musing. “Oh, umm, it’s good. It’s really good. Thank you.” This time she meant it.

Spike smiled. “’Welcome.”

Buffy scooted a little closer to the fire and let the warmth it spread envelop her. “So,” she said after a moment of content silence. “How did you get in trouble? I mean,” she searched for words that would make it sound less patronizing, “what happened?”

“Long story,” Spike replied, as he lit his last but one cigarette. “I’ll keep it short, ‘cos we probably should get going sometime tonight.”

“Yeah,” Buffy said. “Wouldn’t want to spend another night in this dump. Besides, I’ve got an idea, but I’ll get to that. You first.”

Spike spun the events of the previous night into a short tale. When he got to the bit about him saving the two children from the vampires beneath the San Clemente church, he saw surprise flicker across her face. She didn’t say anything, but he could tell she liked hearing he hadn’t left the kids to their gruesome fate. For some reason, this in turn made him happy too, and he smiled despite himself. By the time his story was finished, so was his smoke, and he put out the cigarette butt in the sand between the grass a bit dejectedly. “Y’know, I’m really gonna have to find me some decent tobacco one of these days.”

“You know smoking is bad for you,” Buffy said, meanwhile pondering Spike’s story. She realized again how lucky she was that she had been able to find him.

Spike just grinned. He didn’t have to tell her smoking wasn’t bad for him, being a vampire. “So,” he said, “your turn. Your idea, plus, I’m bloody curious, how the hell did you know where I was?”

“That’s kind of like one story. Well, the one thing’s related to other,” Buffy said, and proceeded to tell him of her encounter with Getha and her mother, the witch hunt, Getha’s predictions, and how she had found Spike. “And the rest you know,” she said. “So what do you think about trying to find the Slayer from this age? You game?”

“Well, I never hid from Slayers,” Spike replied, ignoring Buffy’s glare, “So yeah, why not? Like you said, the old Watcher might be able to help us with that sodding clue our dreams handed us. Speaking of which, I had an idea myself, and I’m thinking now there may be a link.”

“A link? What kind of link?”

“Well I did some digging in my memory and I seem to recall the big war going on in these parts, Europe I mean, was the hundred years one between France and the homeland.”

“There was a war between France and America?”

“No you nit, between France and England. My homeland.”

“Oh. Right, of course. But, but you’re right!” Buffy blurted out, suddenly understanding what he was getting at. “It makes sense, with what Getha said about the horror that would go on for a long time up North. That could be the Hundred Years War, right?”

“My point exactly.”

“Then we know where to go.”

“Well it’s a guess, but there’s a chance, so, yeah.” They sat in silence for a moment, considering the chance they had of getting home, the smallness of which left them somewhat disheartened. Tiny cries in the air announced bats caught in their eternal chase, and Spike could hear the grass rustle with small animals and insects. Meanwhile, the fire was petering out, leaving the cool of the night to sneak up on them again. He kicked the remaining bits of wood with his boot, making the flames rise once more.

“So,” Spike finally broke the silence while the flames died down again, for good this time. “Shall we go? Good thing we got black beauty here,” he gestured to the horse, “We’ll be much faster.”

“We should name him,” Buffy said, getting up.

“The horse? Alright. Got any ideas?” Spike stood as well, brushing dirt off of his precious coat.

Buffy peered in the dark at the horse for a moment. Now that the fire was almost out, the night had swallowed the coal black stallion again. Her thoughts drifted off, to the place where she wished to be, where she should be. “I know it’s cheesy,” she said, keeping her voice from getting too emotional, “but can we call him Home?”

Spike looked at the Slayer, who was staring in the distance, not seeing the horse or the shed or the field, but seeing her world, back home. Home. “Sure can, luv,” he said kindly, emerging in thoughts of their own place and time himself.

“Think they miss us?” Buffy said subdued.

Spike didn’t answer. They would miss her, he was sure. Her friends, her mom, the Watcher, they’d all miss her. How could they not? Hell, even he would miss her. A little. Not much, really, not much at all, he thought, ignoring the sharp pang of sadness at the thought of having to miss her. Besides, it didn’t matter, for she was here with him. There was no one who would miss him back home, he was sure, but that too, he thought, didn’t matter much to him. He had always been a bit of a loner. Not true, a small voice in the back of his mind whispered. It was the voice of Drusilla. Over a hundred years. She was right, he’d never been all that great at being alone. Always craved company, even if they were the most ridiculous kind such as the Slayer and her Scoobies. Sure, he hated them and did his best to kill them back home, but it was better than no company at all. “Oh, sod it,” he growled at his own thoughts.

“Huh?”

“Nothing,” Spike told the puzzled Slayer.

“Ooh-kay,” Buffy said, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. She didn’t have a brush and her hair was quickly turning into a bush-woman’s do. She so needed to get a comb as soon as possible. Buffy pulled back her hand and groaned as she felt the strand stick to it. “Oh no.” Her hand was still sticky from the food she’d eaten, and now that she realized this, she started to feel sticky all over. Sticky and dirty and smelly and very not-having-showered-in-a-bunch-of-days like.

“What is it?” Spike asked concerned.

“I feel so gross. I need a shower,” Buffy replied, whining a little. “I haven’t washed myself in days. I can’t stand it.”

Spike thought for a moment. “Well,” he started, “Can’t help you with the shower bit, but as for the washing, there’s a pond down the hill, y’know where the stream flows to. We could go swim before we leave,” he offered.

“It’s better than nothing I suppose,” Buffy said, feeling itchy at the thought of another few days without a wash up. “Let’s go swim.”

*
Without the moon to light it, the small lake was a black spot of nothingness from a distance, but from up close you could see the water glisten and ripple every now and then with the movements of invisible fish.

As soon as they reached the lake’s shore, Spike slipped out of his duster and let it fall in the grass. Next he pulled his shirt over his head, and bend over to take off his boots.

Buffy stared at his arched back, the muscles flexing as he reached out to undo the laces.

God, he looked good. When Spike stood straight again, he flashed her grin. “Well Slayer, how ‘bout a little skinny dipping?”

Buffy turned bright red at the thought. She had conveniently forgotten about the fact that she didn’t have a bikini with her. Skinny-dipping? With Spike? She started to shake her head but stopped to consider what other options she had. None, she concluded. It was either bathe in the lake, or be dirty and smelly until the next opportunity to wash up came around. She swallowed hard.

“Just don’t look,” she said and turned around so she couldn’t stare at him anymore.

Slowly, she untied the apron and let it drop on the ground. Behind her, Buffy heard Spike undo his belt. She reached up to untie the laces of her dress, when she encountered the same problem she had had when she put the dress on. She couldn’t reach far enough.

Buffy let out an aggravated sigh and thought of giving up on the whole swimming idea. But the stickiness of her hands made her think twice. She reached up again, wriggling and twisting in an attempt to undo the knot. “Damn,” she muttered in frustration when her efforts proved to no avail. There was only solution.

Without turning around, Buffy called out, “Spike! Can you help me, please? The laces…” She gestured at her back.

“Alright,” Spike replied and walked up to her. Buffy tried hard to think of anything other than the state of undress he was in. She breathed in deeply, trying to steady her quickened heartbeat as he stood close behind her, nearly touching her. His hands graced her back as he untied the knot, sending shivers down her spine. Once he had unhooked the dress, Spike slowly pushed it down her shoulders. The sudden feeling of his hands on her skin made Buffy gasp. A bolt of desire shot through and made her knees weak, but she pushed it back, confused. “I… I can do the rest myself,” she heard herself say with a hint of panic in her voice, still not looking at him.

Spike had heard her heartbeat speed when he touched her. He could smell her arousal and it intoxicated him. He grew hard, wanting her badly, but she wouldn’t, of course, admit it. It made him angry but there was nothing he could do about it. Except taunt her a little bit. He brought his face close to her ear and breathed, so she felt his breath on her skin. “You sure about that, Slayer?” he said huskily. Not awaiting the answer, he walked away, got out off his pants, threw them on the heap of clothes by the waterside, and got into the cold water of the lake before she could turn around. Before she could see the huge erection his pants had tried to hide.

Buffy sighed, partly with relief and partly with unwanted disappointed, when Spike moved away from her. The sound of splashing water told her he was already swimming. “Good,” she thought, “now if I can only make it into the water without having him see me naked...” She walked to the shore and pulled off her white sneakers. Several times during the past days she had thanked the heavens for the fact that she’d been wearing this particular pair of shoes when they’d gone back into time, and not one of her high heeled pairs. Her sneakers were much more comfortable, and it seemed like they still had a long way to go.

Buffy’s toes sunk into the soppy mud of the waterside. She looked up to catch Spike’s gaze. “Turn around!” she yelled at him while she let the dress slide down her shoulders, holding it up in front of her chest. A look of disappointment crossed his face and then, to her surprise, he complied, turning and swimming further into the lake. At light speed she let her dress drop down her body, took of her bra and panties, dropped both on the ground and walked a few feet into the water. The deep freezing cold send goosebumps all over her body and Buffy felt like running right out again, into the comfortable warmth of the thick fabric of her old-fashioned dress. But after a few seconds of getting used to the lake’s inhumane temperature, she pressed on. She waded through the water until it reached her middle, and stopped there to wash herself. It was no use going in any further and risking her heart stopping from cold. Okay, so she was exaggerating. She had a right to, she thought, as she wistfully pictured the warm tub and hot shower back home.

Closing her eyes, she could almost feel the hot water stream down her body, and she kept that mental picture as she made her hands into a cup and sprinkled a handful of icy water over her body. The cold made her inhale sharply. No, definitely not going in any further. At the sound of splashing water, Spike stopped swimming and turned around. He was greeted by the most beautiful sight. The Slayer stood to her middle in the deep blackness of the water, her skin a perfect contrast against the dark sky. Her small breasts were exposed with only him and the night witness to their perfection. Even from the distance he could see her nipples were rock hard from the cold breeze and the temperature of the water. She was completely unaware that he was looking at her, splashing drops of water over her body, and wetting her arms and neck as she washed herself. It was possibly the sexiest sight he had ever seen, and he had seen a lot. Spike felt himself grow hard again at the sight of her. He pictured swiping her off her feet, and kissing her so passionately that she would let all denial drift away until all she wanted was him as much as he wanted her.

When Buffy looked up, she caught Spike staring at her with a look on his face that spoke of pure adoration. Shocked, but to her own surprise not all that displeased, she quickly covered her breasts with her arms. He grinned, and she swore he was going to wink at her. Thankfully, he didn’t. It would’ve been too weird.

“Well, are you gonna swim or what?” Spike called, when she kept standing still.

Buffy shook her head fiercely. “It’s much too cold.”

“Bloody hell Slayer, don’t be wuss!”

“I’m not a--“ Buffy started but broke off her sentence when she saw Spike duck under water. “Oh no,” she muttered under her breath. “You are so dead if you try any tricks on me mister.” She scanned the surface for movement, but saw none. The seconds ticked away. He stayed under awfully long, she thought, a cold panic rising in her chest. One minute, two minutes… still nothing. She felt very lonely all of a sudden, standing in the middle of a lake all alone at night, in a place and time that wasn’t hers. Naked and, albeit only seemingly, vulnerable. Three minutes, four minutes… at length she remembered that he, as a vampire, didn’t need to breathe. This did nothing to relieve her sudden sadness though. She wished he would come up and not leave her here all alone. Buffy was about to get out of the water when she felt two hands grip her feet and before she knew it, they were yanked upwards. She shrieked and fell back, thrashing and floundering as she was pulled under the water. Seconds later she reached the surface again, sputtering and gasping for air. A few yards away, Spike popped up, grinning deviously.

“Asshole!” Buffy cried. She was angry beyond belief. It wasn’t just the ducking she was pissed about. That didn’t really matter. But the feeling of panic and loneliness that had overwhelmed her when he had been out of sight for only a few minutes made her angry at him beyond measure. The relief she felt at seeing him again made it only worse. She wanted to scream at him, yell at him, “How could you do that to me?” but she knew she would only make a fool out of herself. She knew, in the rational part of her mind, that she was overreacting, big time, but she still couldn’t help herself from doing so. It was everything, missing home, the fear of losing the one thing she knew in this world, and most of all, she realized, the fear of losing him, which had illogically surfaced again briefly when he had disappeared under water for so long.

When Spike saw the Slayer come towards him, his grin faded quickly. She was positively fuming. “Hey,” he said, backing up when she reached him, looking ready to smack him into pieces. “I was just having some fun, no big--“

Before he could finish his sentence, Buffy swung her fist and hit him hard on the nose, sending him flying backwards in the water. “Yeah, well it wasn’t funny!” she said as she tried to hit him again while he got back on his feet. Spike dodged the blow by ducking under water again and swam a little further into the lake before he got back up. He was getting pissed himself now. Why did she have to make such a problem out of what was no more than a little joke, a little fooling? Buffy swam after him, but he had her at a disadvantage now because he could still stand, the water reaching his jaw, whereas she had to swim to keep her head above water. Buffy lifted her fist again, but her second smack had less than half the impact of the first, because she now had to divide her power between treading the water to keep from going under and fighting Spike. Spike, forgetting the chip, launched himself at her but she ducked aside just in time. While he got back on his feet and spun around, she managed to punch him in the face again, but again not as hard as she could’ve hit him on land, and the move took away her balance. Before she was able to recoup he grabbed both her upper arms, steadying her and keeping her still. This made her even more angry, and Buffy struggled to get loose, kicking him and using all her strength to wrench her arms from his grasp, but to no avail. He held her firmly until after a while, she stopped thrashing and merely glared at him. Anger did her good, he thought. It made her look even sexier, flushing her cheeks and making her look wild and elusive. He smiled, not even trying to hide the lust in his eyes.

Buffy felt hot under the gaze of his searing blue eyes. She was suddenly all too keenly aware of their closeness. Only an arm-length of water between them, and no clothes. The cold of the water seemed to have disappeared and Buffy felt a tingle at her core. She did her best to mask the blush creeping onto her cheeks with a veil of now quickly subsiding anger. “I hate you,” she said, but somehow it didn’t sound very convincing.

“And I’m all you’ve got,” Spike replied in a beat, echoing the words that had sealed their first alliance, forged out of desperation on both sides, two years ago.

Buffy looked up at him, all anger washed away now. He was right. He was all she had. Then and there, she decided something. It didn’t matter what she did, because everything was different here. Because he was all she had.

Spike drank in her face as all sorts of emotions seemed to cross it at the same time. Usually he could read her expression like an open book, through a gift of insight in personalities that had always been a trait of his. But now her thoughts and feelings were a mystery to him. Instead of reading her eyes, he was now drowning in them, as he was drowning in her hot little mouth, in her thin bare shoulders, the long strands of darkened wet hair clinging to her face and the feel of the sides of her breasts that his hands brushed against when she moved her arms. Slowly her expression became clear again, as if she had thrown all other feelings out, leaving only one. Buffy’s cheeks were still flushed and the somewhat wild look had never left her eyes, but the anger that had been dancing in them was now replaced by something he could read all too well: lust. It surprised him enough to let go off her arms. And suddenly those arms were wrapped around his neck, and he felt her press her body against his, her lips on his mouth.

Spike’s eyes widened in astonishment as Buffy kissed him fiercely. He had expected anything but this, yet it was exactly what he had been dreaming of, that she would stop denying the attraction between them, and would finally give in to the feelings he knew had been there all along. He took no more time to think and responded instantly, kissing her back roughly, pushing his tongue against her lips, which she willingly opened to let him in. Their tongues intertwined and began the dance of passion while he wrapped his arms around her middle, pulling her even closer as they kissed frantically.

Buffy gasped as she felt his erection press against her thigh. She clung to him, desperately needing to feel him inside her. She had never craved someone this much before. She moaned as his mouth left hers to trace her neckline up to her earlobe, which he sucked in hungrily. This alone nearly drove Buffy over the edge, and she grind her hips against him. The water made the movement more slow than she wanted, and just then Spike stopped nibbling long enough to whisper hoarsely, “Let’s get out of the water.”

Buffy could only nod. When she didn’t make any attempt to move towards the shore, Spike cupped one of her breasts and softly pulled on the nipple with two fingers. “Let’s go then,” he said.

*
How they managed to get out of the lake and make it to the shed without ravaging each other right there in or by the water, Buffy had no idea. But they did. They had even managed to bring their clothes, which now lay in a pile next to the remains of the fire they’d made earlier. Spike, one arm circled around Buffy’s waist, pushed the door so hard that it cracked and fell out its hinges into the grass. They stumbled inside and Buffy pulled him down on the floor with her, kissing him, her hands now free to roam all over his body. Spike moved on top of her, licking first her one breast, then her other. The slow circles his tongue made around her nipples drove Buffy crazy. Leaving her breasts his cool tongue traced further downwards, but Buffy didn’t let him get far and pulled him back up. She needed him so bad, there was no time for foreplay now. Panting hard, she got out the words: “Spike… need you… inside… now.”

Spike didn’t wait another moment. He pushed her thighs apart even further and then thrust all the way into her. Buffy cried out and bucked against him when he pushed inside, filling her completely. Spike groaned as she lifted her hips and pushed against him. He sought her mouth, kissing her furiously as he started to pound into her. They fucked madly and desperately, and neither of them lasted long. Buffy wrapped her legs around him in an attempt to push him in even further. She threw back her head and cried out his name while wave after wave of intense pleasure crashed over her. Spike could feel the orgasm ripple through her, making her even tighter. He groaned again, pushing inside her as far as he could, and held still for a split second. Then he, too, came, calling out for her as he collapsed on top of her.

They lay still for a moment, then Spike rolled off of Buffy and looked at her. She had her eyes closed and she looked simply beautiful, all sweaty and with her thoroughly reddened lips slightly parted. She was still panting. Spike propped himself up on his elbow. “Luv,” he said softly. She didn’t react immediately. So this was it then, he thought. They were back in the land of denial.

“Buffy,” he said, a little more forcefully now.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him. A content smile slowly spread across her face, setting his heart aflame.

“Spike,” she said. Just his name, nothing more, yet it meant so much to him. Damn, he loved her. He realized it suddenly. He loved her. Oh bloody hell, he thought. He’d be damned if he followed in the footsteps of his poof of a sire. A vampire in love with the Slayer. But he couldn’t help it, couldn’t deny the love he felt for her. It wasn’t in his nature to deny it.

He knew it wasn’t the same for her though. He could tell. Lust, yeah, that was definitely there. Their romp on the floor of the crackdown shed had proved that enough. And maybe, maybe she even liked him a little bit. She had come to save him from Xavier and his sodding Satan worshippers after all, but he suspected she had done that as much out of fear of remaining in this old world alone, as out of kindness to him. But that was okay. He could keep it to himself, the love he felt for her, as long as they were together. Proclaiming his love might only drive her away, he thought. And that was the only thing that really mattered anyway, that they stay together. Sod all else. He didn’t want to think of what would happen were they ever to find their way home. She would go back to treating him like dirt in an instant, probably. The thought was enough to make him consider staying here for the rest of their lives, but he knew that idea was futile. They had to try to make it home. If only for her, they had to try. He could see it sometimes in her, the sadness at the thought of never making it home. When she thought he wasn’t looking, her gaze would drift off and her face would cloud with longing for home. She would never be able to live in this world.

“That was nice,” Buffy said, still smiling.

“Are you kidding? It was bloody fantastic,” he replied.

Buffy’s smile broadened at the words. She didn’t want to think of the implications of what they’d just done. She just wanted to feel. And right now, she felt wonderfully languid and content and warm and sexy. He said it had been fantastic. Which it had, of course, but it was good to know he thought so too, because he did have a few years of experience on her after all. “Yeah,” she said, getting aroused again just by looking at his face, at those piercing eyes and succulent lips that she wanted to kiss again and again. Yes, thinking would be a thing for tomorrow. Not now.

“Come here,” Buffy said, wrapping her arm around his neck as he leant in to kiss her deeply. Their tongues picked up their game again stopping only when he took a break to softly nibbled her lower lip. Buffy let her hands slide down his chest, toying a bit with his nipples. She loved making him moan. After a short while her hands continued their way down. She let her fingers run up and down his abs, every time nearing his cock, but not quite touching it. Spike groaned and pushed himself against her. She was bloody torturing him by taking it so slow. He kissed her again, then found his way back to her earlobe. He had noticed earlier that this was one of her buttons, and he pressed it by licking it, and then softly sucking on it. He pushed against her again, willing her to take hold of him. Finally Buffy gave in to him and slid her hand around his shaft. Slowly stroking the tip with her thumb, she started to move her hand, driving him insane with her slow pace. Spike moaned again and brought his hands down to her breasts. She whimpered as he pulled hard on her nipples, enjoying a pleasure that bordered on pain. She sped up the movement of her hand, making him pant. “Oh yes, like that…” he said hoarsely. He could feel he was getting there, and, using all the willpower he had in him, he took her hand and pulled it away from him. Buffy looked at him questioning. “Slow,” he said, between pants. “If you continue that, this will be over quickly. I want us to go slow this time… I want to taste you.”

The words, spoken so huskily, send a shiver through Buffy and she breathed in deeply. Spike smiled at her and then leant in to kiss her again, moving on top of her now. He kissed her lips, then her chin, and consequently let his tongue trail down her neck and chest again. This time Buffy didn’t stop him. She closed her eyes and let the sensations roll over her. Spike’s expert tongue reached her breast and he slowly started to lick them, cupping first one, then both, with his hands. She whimpered again when he softly bit her nipples and continued to leave little bite and sucking marks down her body, until he reached her thighs. Now he was taking revenge for her torturing him earlier, as he excruciatingly slowly explored the area between her thighs while never touching her core. Buffy tried to arch up into his touch, but he pulled away, grinning deviously. “Please,” Buffy moaned, needing to feel him more than ever.

“You want it?” Spike said, taunting her. Buffy could only nod. Her thoughts were not very coherent anymore. All she could think about was his touch and how much she craved it. At last, he took pity on her, and plunged his tongue between her lips, licking and nibbling on her clit. Buffy gasped, bucking against his mouth as he slowly slid his tongue inside her. “Oooh yes, oh god yes” she muttered. Nothing had ever felt this good. Spike cupped her butt with his hands, kneading her cheeks and bringing her even closer to his thrusting tongue. Buffy cried out for him, nearing her climax, when all of a sudden he pulled away from her, leaving her trembling. Buffy made a protesting sound, and then resorted to pleading again, “Spike, please…”

He didn’t take long to respond. Moving up, he position himself at her entrance again, and pushed inside her in one quick thrust. Buffy moaned and, wrapping her arms around him, rolled them over. Now she was on top and in control again. Spike lay on the floor looking up at her, his hands cupping her ass again. Buffy kissed him passionately, and then sat up, taking in even more of his length. Slowly, she lifted her hips and lowered herself again, slowly speeding up the rhythm as she repeated the movements over and over. Had Spike thought Buffy in the lake had been the sexiest sight he’d ever seen, the sight of her sitting on top of him, fucking him, her breasts bouncing up and down and her face distorted with ecstasy, beat the other view by all means. After a while, they were both nearing their peak again, and Spike pulled her down on top of him and rolled over. Back on top, he slowed their speed down again, making it last longer. He did this repeatedly until even this couldn’t keep them from coming anymore, and they rocked faster and faster until they both came, Spike first and Buffy right after him. Panting, they held each other until their breath slowed down.

Satisfied, Buffy got a little sleepy now. Her stamina hadn’t quite run out yet, and she wouldn’t have minded continuing their dance all night long, but her mind was tired from all the emotions. After a moment or so, Spike let go of her and got up. “Just getting our clothes,” he said, gesturing at the open door.

“All right,” Buffy muttered drowsily. She did her best to keep her eyes open, wanting to look at him for as long as she could. He was glorious when he was naked. “You think we should still leave?” he asked. “For France?”

“You’re joking right? We can go tomorrow, it’s not like we’re…” Buffy’s words trailed off into the night as she entered the slumber between sleep and wake. When Spike got back, she was in dreamland already. He knelt down next to her and lifted her slightly so he could spread her dress out under her. She didn’t even wake up. Consequently, he laid next to her as close as possible and covered both of them with his leather duster. For a while, he pondered the extraordinarily wonderful events of the night, then he too, drifted off to sleep.

*
Buffy awoke coughing. The darkness came pouring into the shed through the door opening. They had slept all through the day again. Buffy felt a twinge of regret at that. She would’ve liked to have seen the sun again, even if only briefly. Maybe it could’ve warmed her thoroughly cold skin. She coughed again, louder this time. Her throat felt all itchy and raspy and it hurt when she coughed. As if things weren’t bad already, she was now getting a cold. Although, not all things were bad. What had happened last night wasn’t so bad. Or was it? Her conscience told her it was, the Slayer inside her told her it was, and all that she had been told her it was a bad thing. Sex with Spike. But a voice deep in her heart told her it wasn’t. It had felt so good, and for the first time since they had gotten here she had felt truly happy again. Like she had thought the night before, it didn’t matter what she did here, for he was all she had.

Refusing to question what had happened, shoving all worries off into the future, she did wonder what was going to happen with them, now. Were they, what, a couple now? For some reason she couldn’t really see that. It was too much of a break with how she had always thought of him, to suddenly see him as something more than a companion and a lover now. They were obviously lovers now. And he could be kind of sweet, in his way, sometimes. Like now, how he had covered them with his coat again to protect them from the cold. That was kind of sweet, right? Buffy’s thoughts were interrupted when Spike stirred next to her. Another cough of hers woke him up entirely.

Spike sat up, stretching his limbs and taking in the sight of the half naked blonde next to him. God, she looked beautiful. He wanted to tell her so, but figured he’d better not get all soft now. She probably would consider all of last night a big mistake anyway, and it was only time before the first spiteful comment would pass over her lips. Buffy noticed his gaze and covered her breasts like she had done the day before. The gesture was so sweet and so unnecessary that Spike couldn’t help himself from kissing her and softly pushing her arms away from her chest. As his tongue slowly circled around hers, he caressed her breasts for a minute or so until he pulled away.

Buffy was surprised at the tenderness of his touch. If there was one thing she had not expected him to be then it was tender. But as he pulled away the cocky grin appeared on his face again. “Morning, Slayer.”

Slayer? Was she back to being the Slayer now? Didn’t the night before mean anything to him? Buffy swallowed hard. A look of hurt passed through her eyes, then anger replaced it. She was going to make a derogatory comment, but a vehement coughing fit prevented her words from spilling.

“Buffy, what’s wrong?” Spike dropped his act when Buffy started coughing. He patted her back as she tried to get her breath back.

The gesture and the concern in his voice instantly convinced Buffy she had been wrong in her earlier assumption that he didn’t care about what had happened. Once she caught her breath, she said, “It’s nothing. It’s just a cold I picked up last night, or maybe the night before.”

"Right then," he said, but he still looked somewhat concerned.

"So, we better go, right? I mean, we're going to have to leave here sometime." Buffy said, getting up. She searched through the mix of clothing on the floor next to her and picked out her panties and bra. No longer bothering to hide herself from his eyes, she put her clothes on.

“Where are your other clothes?” she asked as Spike fished his tight pants out of the pile.

“You mean my jeans and shirt?” Spike asked. Buffy nodded. “I lost them.” He hadn’t really thought about his twentieth century togs before, but now he felt a pang of regret about losing them. He didn’t care so much about the jeans and shirt itself, because everything was fine as long as he still had his duster, but this meant he was doomed to keep walking around in those damn tights. “When I was getting those kids out, in the church… I dropped them and forgot about them, so now I’m forced to keep wearing these nancy-boy clothes.”

“Oh, poor Spikey,” Buffy said sarcastically. “You can always borrow my skirt if you want.” She picked up the denim thing and dangled it in front of him.

“Very funny.”

“Well, at least you’ve got nice clothes,” Buffy said with a bit of a pout. “When I pictured the Middle Ages I saw castles and knights and tournaments and pretty dresses.” She now held up her own beige dress, that had already gotten pretty dirty from their adventures. ”Not something like this. I bet it looks horrible on me.” She pulled the thing over her head, still pouting as the fabric fell down her body.

Spike tilted his head and smiled at her. “You’d look beautiful in anything, pet.”

Buffy looked up at him, blushing a little at the compliment.

“In nothing, too…” Spike continued as he stepped over to her and slid his hand into the bodice of her dress. Buffy gasped as cool fingers stroked her breasts. She reached up and kissed him, allowing their tongues to play briefly before she reluctantly pulled away from him. “We really have to go,” she said, coughing again. “I hope I don’t contaminate you, by the way.”

“Not possible,” Spike replied. He turned her around and began to fasten the laces of her dress. It was already becoming a habit, him helping her close the garment. He bent over a little and breathed in the scent of her hair, then pushed it aside and kissed her neck right at the collarbone, sucking a little. Buffy felt a surge of pleasure run through her. How nice would it be to just give into his touch now, but they really had to go… “Spike!” “Yeah, yeah, I know. We have to go.”

A few moments later they had gathered all their clothes and led an impatient Home to the stream. The horse drank greedily, and so did Spike and Buffy. When they had all had enough, Spike mounted the horse and helped Buffy up to sit behind him. They turned back in the direction they’d come from and rode off into the night.

*
“This is heaven,” Buffy thought, as she rolled into the cupboard-bed. It didn’t matter that the mattress was hard and filled with straw, or that the bed was so small that she nearly had to sit up in it in order to fit. All that mattered was that they had a place to sleep, a warm and dry and somewhat comfortable place. Buffy was dead tired. They had been traveling for four nights, sleeping in farmers’ barns and cave’s in the woods. Buffy had no idea where on the map of Europe they were now. They had taken a big detour around Rome, avoiding any possibility of meeting up with Xavier and his gang again, and they were now traveling northward, with the pole-star as their point of orientation. Buffy’s cold had gotten steadily worse, and after the sniffing had started, the pain of her cough had moved from her throat to deep in her chest, keeping her awake half the night, or rather day. So far they had spent every day in each other’s arms, which didn’t help the amount of sleep she got either, but now she was even too tired for that. Buffy sighed contently as her head hit the mattress. The sleeping outside and in a farm’s hay had gotten slightly better after they had purchased two large leather bags for Home to carry, which they had filled with provisions and most importantly, blankets, but it still didn’t compare to having an actual bed in an inn.

Buffy felt Spike snuggle up next to her, nearly folding his legs double to fit in the small space. She didn’t notice the worried expression on his face as he looked at her anymore, or the kiss that he planted softly on her cheek. Buffy was fast asleep.

*
During the night Buffy had woken lots of times from coughing fits that seemed to have no end to them. Sometimes she woke bathing in sweat after some or other nightmare of which she only remembered vague bits and pieces. Her mom, falling into a tunnel and crying for help. A guy, blond curls and glasses, in another long ago time, getting bitten by a female vampire who wore her face. Angel, turning human and then dying…

But when dusk finally approached and it was time to continue their path, Buffy wouldn’t wake for the world. Spike shook her hard, and finally she opened her eyes, a dazed expression on her face. After a few moments she seemed to realize where she was. “Hi,” she croaked, her throat more raspy than ever. Tiny pearls of sweat grazed her forehead, and her cheeks had an unnatural shimmer of red over them. Spike looked at her worriedly, and pressed his cool hand to her forehead. As he was afraid, she was burning up.

Buffy sighed as Spike put his hand to her hot face. “Hm, nice,” she whispered. She felt pretty miserable. But they had to go on, otherwise they would never get home. She proceeded to get up, but Spike pushed her back on the mattress. It didn’t take him a lot of strength. Buffy felt pretty weak. “You’re ill. Think we better stay here today,” Spike told her.

“No, I’m fine,” Buffy protested, working herself up to sitting position.

“You’re not fine, you’ve got a fever for one thing.”

“So, so I got a bout of the flu. It’s alright, I can go. I want to go. We’re never going to get home if we stay here,” she said, as she moved to the edge of the bed and let her legs dangle outside. She jumped on the floor and grabbed the wooden door of the cupboard-bed for a moment to steady herself. The world was spinning around her. Okay, so she didn’t feel her best. She could still travel. All she had do was sit on Home’s back anyway, right?

“Buffy, are you sure?” Spike asked, still overly concerned.

“Yeah, sure I’m sure,” Buffy said, more optimistic than she felt. “What’s with you?

You’re acting all weird and stuff. It’s just the flu.”

Spike saw there was no way of stopping her, unless he tied her up and strapped her to the bed, which was a possibility, but probably wouldn’t help the young sense of trust that had developed between them. So there was nothing to do but go, and try to watch out for her health as well as he could.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Spike said lightly, getting out of the bed as well. He still felt incredibly worried about her. The flu. It didn’t sound that bad to her, used as she was to good food and medicine in her twentieth century world, but in this age, people died of the flu. Hell, they even died of the flu back when he was still human. He’d lost three cousins to the Spanish flu when he was fifteen. Of course, it wasn’t so much the flu itself that was the danger, but if there were complications… but she was strong, he reasoned. It would be alright. Still, the thoughts did nothing to help him shake his worry. He decided not to mention his concern to Buffy, for it would only worry her as well.

A small meal of bread for her and blood for him later, they were standing in the inn’s stable, putting the bags on Home’s back. They led the horse outside and Spike made Buffy climb on its back first. He then reached up and wrapped a blanket around her. "What-“ Buffy protested, but he didn’t let her finish.

“Only way we’re gonna travel,” he said roughly. “It’s either this blanket or the one in the bed upstairs.”

“Alright mom,” Buffy said as Spike mounted the horse and took the reins. Despite her protest, she had to admit the blanket felt quite nice. Warm and cozy. She leant her head against Spike’s leather-clad back and they made for the road again.

The next couple of hours Buffy spent in a feverish slumber. She wasn’t sure sometimes if she was awake or dreaming, but when loud screams pierced her haze she woke up to reality in full. “Oh no, not again,” she groaned as she saw what was happening. They were in a dark forest and were surrounded by about six tough-looking brigands. Spike, thinking of Buffy’s illness, decided it was better not to fight now, and put the spurs to their horse, but one of the robbers drew a large knife and stabbed the poor stallion in his leg. Home staggered and sent both Buffy and Spike flying off his back. As Buffy scrambled back to her feet, dizziness hit her again. Really not feeling well, she thought to herself as two of the brigands rushed at her. Despite her illness-induced weakness, Buffy still managed to put up a good fight, but her head hurt with every blow she dodged and her hits and kicks weren’t as hard as they normally were. Spike noticed the Slayer’s trouble and, not caring about the chip, came to her aid. With the first punch he threw at one of the highwaymen’s noses, he noticed again how the pain he felt when the chip kicked in wasn’t as bad as it used to be. This was very strange. It seemed as if the thing was starting to malfunction a bit. But there was no time for him to ponder the issue further, because the robbers had now drawn their weapons; daggers and axes and cudgels.

The fight got nastier now, but Buffy and Spike kept the upper hand. Buffy managed to knock out one of the robbers, and so did Spike, and a third made for the running when he saw Spike shift into vamp face. They were each battling an opponent now, on opposite sides of the path, when Spike suddenly noticed another brigand sneaking up behind Buffy with a large ax. “Buffy, behind you!” Spike cried while the brigand lifted the ax above his head, ready to strike and split the Slayer’s head in two. Buffy’s fever made her react more slowly than usual, and for a moment Spike feared for her life, but then she managed to knock out the robber she was fighting, grab the big cudgel he’d been clutching, spin around and hit the brigand hard on the head, all in a split of a second. Spike could swear he heard the brigand’s skull crack as the cudgel came down on his head. The ax slipped out of his hand and fell at Buffy’s feet, while the man bit the dust. Seeing his ally fall, the robber Spike had been fighting fled into the darkness of the forest around them. In the silence that followed, Buffy uttered a small strangled cry of despair. Spike rushed over to her, but she didn’t see him. She saw nothing but the man at her feet. His eyes were closed and he didn’t move. Blood mingled with his long dark hair and seeped from the corner of his mouth. Buffy felt as if she was dreaming again. Death, death at her hands. She brought her hands up to her face and stared at them, shivering. “I killed him…”




Continued...