Dreams, Desotos, and Death

A challenge given to me by Maidenro where Buffy and Spike take off after Becoming and don't come back. Written for Live Journal's Summer of Spike Community, but I didn't quite get it finished.  Spoilers up to the end of season 2.

    Rated R

Part 1

    As Buffy loaded the dirty dishes into the dishwasher, she once again marveled on the weird path her life had taken.  The point in her life where she was finally happy. Probably happier than she'd ever been, if she was all honest girl. The events that had led to this point had at first left her drenched in despair, then slowly gave way to something greater than she had ever thought possible.  Almost as if fate had dictated a  series of events to unite two people who would never have given the other a chance otherwise. It was almost... cosmic.  How else could she explain living in a small quiet town in New England with her previous enemy, and being the happiest she'd ever been?

    Shaking her head wryly at the direction of her thoughts, she rinsed the remaining contents of the coffee mug under the running water before lining it up neatly in its place next to the others.  For someone who didn't even need to eat food to survive, Spike sure dirtied up more dishes than any two people combined.  She didn't know how he did it, but there they always were, a huge stack of dirty dishes haphazardly piled in the sink. 

    Buffy didn't really mind the little domestic task though. It seemed to  provide the best opportunity for her thoughts to wander, like they were  doing now. When she moved on to wiping down the tiled counters, her mind once again made the familiar journey to that  night six months ago. The night that had changed her entire life.

SIX MONTHS PRIOR

    Buffy stumbled out of the looming, oppressive mansion, her eyes wide with shock. What had she just done? Angel... Oh god, it had been Angel... Tears pooled in her eyes before taking the final plunge down her cheeks.  She had just stuck a sword through the man she loved. To save the world. Again.

    A noise coming from behind caused her to cast blurry eyes in that direction.  She saw Spike  leaning heavily against the massive frame of the double doors.  His face was an unmovable mask, but his eyes were probably mirrors of her own. Agonized. Suddenly angry that she shared anything in common with this cold blooded killer, she lashed out with the only weapon she had left.

    "Where's Drusilla?" Buffy asked coldly, regretting the harsh words the instant they left her mouth.  

    "I didn't mean to." He replied in a tortured voice, his eyes searching hers as if begging for forgiveness. "She came at me.... and I shoved her." He didn't need to finish, Buffy got the picture.  Angel wasn't the only vampire who had gone to hell tonight.

    Realizing just who he was talking to, Spike shook his gloomy thoughts aside and slipped into his typical Big Bad persona. He pushed away from the door frame and adopted his usual cocky, confident swagger. Although it was lacking serious conviction tonight. "Come on Slayer. Let's you and me get out of here.

    Feeling an irrational anger that this vampire was alive while hers was dead, Buffy offered him a withering glare and stormed off. She needed to get the hell away from the place where she'd had to kill her lover. Away from the vampire who wasn't as evil as he should be.  Away from everything.

    Buffy was fortunate that she didn't run into any vamps on the way home, as her distraction could have proven fatal.  As she  had walked along, her brain had become numb. Blessedly blindingly anesthetized.  She knew it was a defense mechanism but she couldn't give a shit at that point. Numb was of the good. Pain and agony were of the bad.

    When she got to her house, she noticed the lights on downstairs.  Rather than attempt any confrontation with her mother, she bypassed the front door and made her way to the tree that stood tall in front of her bedroom window. As she had done so many times before, Buffy shimmied up and stepped through her window.  She was the Slayer and stealth was part of the whole package.

    In minutes, she had shoved clothes and various things into a leather satchel.  She didn't really care what she grabbed, just knew she wasn't coming back. She was finished.  Her mom had told her not to come back which really made things that much easier.  Buffy had saved the world for the last damn time.  They had given her grief the previous year when she had tried to quit, when her death had been predicted at the hands of the Master. Well, now she wasn't giving them a choice. She was done. As in, finished. Let someone else take over, because this was one job she no longer wanted.

    Grabbing the stash of money at the bottom of her weapons chest, Buffy slung her satchel across her chest, and took one last accessing look around before racing over to her bed to grab the stuffed pig from his perch on her pillows.  Can't forget Mr. Gordo, she thought frantically. She exited her room the same way she had came in, and was on the ground in seconds.  Suddenly she felt that little tingle at the back of her neck that warned her of approaching danger, and whipped around, hand already reaching for the stake within easy reach.  It didn't come as a surprise to see Spike, somehow she knew he'd be turning up.  She released her hold on the stake that was in her grip as they regarded each other.

    He had parked in front of Buffy's next door neighbor, his black monstrosity idling noisily at the curb. Buffy stalked over to where he was leaning against the passenger door and not a word was exchanged as he simply held the door open for her. Not looking him in the eye, she allowed herself to slide in, and he shut the door firmly behind her.

    He walked around the Desoto and climbed behind the wheel. Shifting the car into drive, he slammed his foot on the gas, and they roared out of town and as far from Sunnyhell as they could get. Neither saying a word, both locked in the horrible memories of the last few hours. And so it began.  She didn't ask why he'd come for her, nor did she question her total lack of hesitation in accepting his silent invitation.  They both needed to run, and it just seemed easier to do it together.  And they both understood that traveling with their mortal enemy came at some risk, one that they were both more than willing to take. 

    They had driven for over an hour before Spike  finally pulled off. "Gas," was the only word he uttered, and Buffy nodded.  She got out and used the bathroom, not even noticing the scum and filth that clung to the walls.  She did make sure that she washed her hands, briefly coming out of her self induced indifference to notice the lack of housekeeping the bathroom possessed when she was forced to wipe her dripping hands on the ass of her jeans.   Giving her reflection a dirty look,  she exited the bathroom,  and returned to the land of not giving a damn as she climbed back into the car.  Spike was waiting for her, and they took off, once more not exchanging any words.

    Just before the morning rays made themselves known, Spike pulled into a motel. Buffy couldn't even say where they were, it could have been anywhere.  And she didn't really care. All she wanted to do was sleep, fall into deep oblivion.  She waited in the car while Spike checked them in, not offering to pay her way. And Spike, for his part, didn't ask her to.  There was no objections when he came back and motioned her to follow, slipping the key into the lock. This place didn't rate fancy key cards, and with a twist of the old fashioned key, he threw the door open.  A cloud of stale cigarette smoke came billowing out of the room and with one last gasp of clean air, Buffy followed him inside.

    Nothing was said by either of them about the single king size bed that dominated the tiny room. In another time, Buffy figured she would have probably been embarrassed by it, the thought of sharing a bed with Spike. But right now, nothing was penetrating her hastily erected protective  walls.   She grabbed her satchel and went into the bathroom, not even bothering to lock the door. She stripped off her clothes and pulled out a t-shirt, slipping it on over her head. Exiting the bathroom, she climbed into bed after making sure the curtains were drawn securely.

      Not bothering with the niceties of clothing, Spike stripped and climbed into bed a few minutes after her. They laid stiffly on their respective sides of the bed, both trying to forget that they had sent their own loved ones to hell this day.  As if in concert, they turned to the other and took comfort in each other's arms, finally allowing the repressed tears to fall.   No words were ever shared, the pain was too raw. An underlying current of anger flowed at the core of both of them, each blaming the other for their current circumstances.  Buffy continued to hold on to her irrational anger that Spike was the wrong vampire, it shouldn't be him offering her comfort.  And she could see the same sentiment reflected back in his eyes. It was her fault that Angelus had returned, and the consequences that followed.  Buffy wasn't Drusilla. Spike wasn't Angel. Yet they continued to hold each other as they slept, allowing the nightmares to be kept at bay.  Sex wasn't part of the equation, even though Buffy could more than feel Spike's erection pressing into her. Because she wasn't Drusilla. And he wasn't Angel.

    And thus a pattern was soon established. Silent nights of driving with only their thoughts for company, followed by an endless stream of seedy motels where they spent the day sleeping.  She had lost track along the way, didn't even know what state they were in.  On those long silent drives during the night, Buffy would sometimes give in and think about what she was doing. What they were doing.  While she knew Spike wouldn't try and kill her, she realized that this was not doing either one of them any good.  They were doing the avoid-y thing, something that Buffy was so proficient at. Unfortunately, it was beginning to wear on both of them. Spike was becoming increasingly snarly, his demon coming out more and more often. And Buffy was.. well, she didn't want to think what she was becoming.

    One night, after two weeks of the same cycle, Buffy decided it was time to break the silence.  "Spike? Where are we going?"

    He cast a quick surprise glance her way before narrowing his eyes. "You're just asking that now?"

    "Wasn't so much with the caring part before."

    Spike tossed his cigarette out the window and took a moment to answer.  "Dunno where we're going. Reckon we'll know when we get there."

    "Oh."  Buffy's face was thoughtful as she looked out the window.  She had scraped the black paint off of her window so she could see whatever scenery could be discerned at night, which usually proved to be bleak and depressing. Kinda like her mood.

    "You wanna stop somewhere and eat?"

    The question was unexpected. "You mean, like go in and sit down? That type of stop and eat?"

    Spike picked up on the slightly hopeful tone of her voice. "Yeah."

    After two weeks of gas stations and drive thru, it sounded great. "Ok." 

    Spike pulled into a Denny's and put the car in park. Buffy had reached down to slip her shoes back on when her car door was opened. It threw her off balance a little, manners from a vampire. Especially THIS vampire. She got out and he slammed it shut behind her. Keeping his hand possessively on the small of her back, he opened the door leading into the restaurant.  Buffy wisely kept her mouth shut, knowing instinctively that making any comment would be of the bad.

    Once they were seated in a booth, Buffy looked across the table at him and took the opportunity to study him under the crappy lighting  Denny's provided.  He looked bad, like majorally bad,  and she hadn't even noticed until  now.  His face was paler than normal, with his lips dry and cracked, totally lacking their usual blood red tint. Dark circles haunted his eyes and those usually pronounced cheekbones were now almost obscene on his gaunt face.

    "What are you staring at, slayer?" he groused, not bothering to look up from the menu.

    "You're not looking so good." Buffy decided to be honest girl.

    Spike looked at her over the top of the menu, one eyebrow arching sardonically. "Wouldn't cast stones, pet. Least you can see yourself in the bloody mirror," he scoffed, the slight tilt of his head in her direction indicating her own lack of stellar looks.

    The flash of pain that struck her face didn't go unnoticed by Spike, who sighed and set his menu down.  "Look, we've both been in a bad spot, ok?  Neither one of us has really been eating as much as we should. You're getting to be a bit on the skin and bones side yourself."

    Concern replaced the hurt. "You haven't been feeding?"

    He offered her an amused snort. "Last I looked, I'm traveling with the bloody Slayer."

    Self disgust flooded her as she realized she hadn't even thought about his feeding habits in the course of her misery. She was the damn slayer, and he could have been leaving a trail of corpses behind everywhere they went.  God, she was slipping big time.  Some protector of the innocent she was.  "So, you haven't fed?"

    "Didn't say that.  Just said I haven't eaten as much as I should be."

    "And that means.... what exactly?"  A trace of the old slayer was now coming to the surface, and Spike didn't know why it pleased him to see it, but it did.

    "It means that instead of completely draining a bloke, I just take a quick nip." Spike announced quietly but with a lethal timbre to his voice.

    "You can do that?" Buffy asked curiously. She'd actually been surprised to not have felt his fangs when she laid wrapped tightly in his arms.  Especially when she would wake up and he'd be all fangy in his sleep, with his massive hard on nudging her. She figured it was a vampire thing, waking up fangy and erect, since he'd never tried to inflict any of those protruding appendages on her.

    "You're still alive, aren't you?"

    "Yeah, unfortunately." She said quietly, casting her eyes downward. The waitress approached the table effectively putting a stop to the direction their first actual conversation had taken.

    But that stop at Denny's did more than just pad Buffy's stomach with something that hadn't come in a drive-thru bag, it broke through the dam that had kept them wrapped inside themselves.  As Spike drove, the rest of the night passed by with hesitant attempts at conversation. A tentative friendship was being formed; although if things got too personal, they both would shut down. Neither trusted  the other enough to let them into their private Hellhouse of pain. They had a long way to go before that would happen, if ever.

    By the time they stopped that morning, Spike looked even worse, appearing almost skeletal now. Deep grooves were sunken into his face and his skin had a translucent blue cast to it.  Buffy didn't know how he could keep up all this monotonous driving, and there had even been a few episodes where he had swerved into the oncoming lane.  She knew he needed to feed, and her gut clenched up at what that meant.  Not knowing where they were, the likelihood of finding a place that sold animal blood was low.  The early morning hour was also a deterrent, most shops were not likely to be open for hours yet. 

    After Spike once again got them checked in, he threw himself tiredly on the bed and closed his eyes.  Buffy sat down tentatively next to him.

    "I know what you're doing."

    He didn't open his eyes, his features remained expressionless. "What's that then, pet?"

    "You're not eating to punish yourself."

    This caused him to pry one eye open to peer up at her. "And again, wouldn't cast stones if I were you. I've seen you doing the same thing."

    "Yeah, maybe I have." Buffy quietly admitted, but then conviction grew in her voice. "But if *I* get too hungry, all you'll have to deal with is a bitchy Buffy.  If you get too hungry, I become an appetizing snack."

    Intense blue eyes bored into hers, searching. "Think if that's what was on my mind, I would have killed ya already."

    Warily, she laid down next to him, the awkwardness of sharing their feelings stretching between them.  But guilt had Buffy reaching out again. Guilt that she hadn't noticed Spike's progressive emaciation, guilt over the fact that he could snap and go on a homicidal rampage which she knew she wouldn't have the energy to stop. And the ever present guilt over what happened that night in the mansion.

    Silently, she raised her wrist to Spike's lips in an unvoiced offer. His eyes sprang open once more, as he smelled the scent of her skin practically shoved under his nose. His face slid easily into that of his demon at the scent of her blood pumping so close to him.

    "What the bloody hell is this?  A bit on the suicidal side yourself, eh?" He asked angrily, pushing her arm away.

    Buffy propped herself up on her elbow and glared down at the face of evil below her. Anger filled her, but it was a different anger, and it felt good.  "If I was being suicidal, I would have offered you my jugular, you big jerk."

    A smirk almost snuck onto his face as he stared up at the golden beauty of the slayer.  "Then why don't you bloody spell it out for me then."

    Buffy sighed tiredly, allowing her head to fall to the pillow beneath her. ""Look, I don't really know what happens when a vamp starves, but from what I can see, it's not pretty.  Since you're driving, I'd rather you be all alert guy.  I don't know how to go about getting you any blood here since I don't even know where the hell we are.  This is a one time offer. After this, we'll work something out."

    "How do you know I won't just drain ya?"

    Spike almost didn't think she was going to answer, the silence stretched on for so long. "Because then you'd be alone and I don't really think you want that."

    Anger and denial flashed heatedly in his amber eyes.  "You don't know a soddin thing about me."

    Buffy expected his anger, she would have been worried in its absence.  Her walls were crumbling, and while the urge to throw them back up was almost overwhelming, she knew she needed them demolished.  Otherwise, this lack of feeling was going to end up killing her.  A glimpse of tears shimmered in her eyes as she stared back at Spike. "No, I don't know you that well. But I know that I'm scared to be alone right now, and I don't want you to die." She put her wrist back to his mouth. "Please." She asked softly.

    A shudder went through Spike as his eyes burned into hers. With a anguished growl, he grabbed her wrist and sank in his fangs into her flesh, tearing through the tender skin on the underside of her arm roughly, bringing a small cry of pain to her lips. And that sound of pain was music to his ears, he wanted to punish her. For forcing him to choose to live again.

    Her blood was indescribable to his starving body, the slayer component adding a rich powerful mix to it.  But he took no joy in it, taking long punishing pulls, allowing the warm liquid to slide down his throat where it went to work almost immediately.  He could feel her blood feeding his starving cells, filling out his skeletal frame , restoring him to his former self.  Taking longer pulls than he should have, he allowed her blood to heal his body.

    And the better he felt, the more angry he became, deliberately digging into her wrist until his fangs scraped along tendons and bone.  When his cruel action brought no response, he looked over and realized she had passed out.  He could hear her heart struggling to catch up with the sudden, violent blood loss, and he wrenched  his fangs out of her.

    "FUCK!" He yelled, jumping off the bed and going into the bathroom to grab a towel.Tying a pressure dressing against the gushing gaping holes in her wrist, his self loathing increased tenfold.  "Why the fuck didn't you stop me, you stupid bint?"  He screamed at her unconscious figure, her skin now as pale as his had been. "You're the bloody fucking slayer!"

    He took to pacing the room, running his hands wildly through his hair.  He mentally ran through his options, and realized he had  none.  He'd practically drained her; he could still hear her heart frantically trying to catch up with her body's demands.  Why hadn't she stopped him?  But secretly, he knew why. It was the same reason he had stopped feeding.  If death was being offered, it was a welcome way out.

    And now he knew exactly what she had gone on about, why she had forced him to feed off of her.  He didn't want to be alone either. If she died because of this, he would be walking out and kissing the sun. She may be the slayer and a bloody human, but she was all he had right now.  And he didn't want her to die.

    Pulling out a cigarette, he lit it with an agitated snap, noticing that his hands were shaking. He threw himself into the chair that was situated in the corner and watched her, listening to every beat her heart made.  Spike knew if she wasn't the Slayer, she would have been dead right now, and he just hoped being the slayer was enough to pull her through this. 

    Storming back over to the bed, Spike ripped the towel off of her wrist, noting that the bleeding was slowing. Unable to help himself, he sank to his knees beside the bed and grabbed her hand, bringing the mutilated wrist back to his mouth.  Whereas before he had treated it cruelly, now he very gently flicked his tongue out and licked the gaping edges of the wounds.  God, he'd really done a number on her all right, finding himself sickened by his actions.

    His saliva combined with her slayer healing ability had finally allowed the mutilated flesh to cease bleeding, a fact  which Spike was tremendously grateful for. And though she lay just moments away from possible death, the heavy tangy scent of her blood screamed at him, pounding like furious fists on a  door to every enhanced sense in his body to take even more. He'd taken enough human life to know exactly how much blood loss a mortal could withstand, and he had gone over the limit with Buffy. The compulsion to just finish the job was there, but his need to live was even stronger. And Spike now knew that in order for him to live, he needed this young girl with him.  He didn't dare think of what that meant, he just responded to what his instincts hurled at him. Spike could not allow the vampire slayer, his only friend left, to die.

    Clasping her hand gently in his own, he brought her cold hand to his lips, feathering a tiny kiss to the back of it. Her lower body temperature disturbed him, and he eased the heavy comforter  out from underneath her body in an attempt to get her warmed up, assuming shock was setting in.  Gently, he lifted the cover up and over her body, tucking it in around her side, leaving her damaged wrist exposed so that he could monitor its healing. 

    Once more returning to the spot by her side,  he lifted her hand in his, wrapping her lax fingers around his hand.  He brought her knuckles to his lips, keeping them there, as if the light touch of his lips alone could restore her life.   Spike was finally rewarded moments later by a fluttering of her eyelids before they finally slid open to reveal her dazed hazel eyes. He watched as she blinked in exaggeration, slowly trying to bring the world into focus.

    Buffy felt like she was breaking out a dark cocoon; her body felt heavy, her arms laying useless at her side  and she couldn't quite remember where she was or more frightening, how she had gotten there.  She gradually became aware of her surroundings, and the stinging pain in her wrist. Slowly she turned her head to the side to investigate the source of the biting pain, and saw a pair of blue eyes shining brilliantly back at her.

    "You ok now?" The question came out hoarse, almost gruff.

    "What happened?" Buffy asked in a slightly slurred voice, eyebrows knitting together in concentration.

    Spike dropped her hand, causing a streak of pain to travel through her as it fell limply on the bed. He got to his feet and began pacing the room once more, anxiety pouring off him in waves.  "Almost bloody drained you, is what." Spike remarked harshly, running his fingers through his hair in a gesture that showed his agitation.

    Buffy struggled to push herself up to a sitting position but dizziness assaulted her from all sides.  "What the bloody hell do you think you are doing? Trying to kill yourself all over again?" Spike growled, quickly returning to her side and assisting her back against the pillows.  He threw her a black look, then strode over to the bag on the table. Pulling out a juice that she had purchased at a mini mart before they had stopped for the day, he twisted the top off and brought the bottle over to her.

    "Drink it." He ordered harshly.

    She tried to manage a defiant glare at his tone, but then  noticed the slightly pleading look that haunted his face, and gave in gracefully.  He added a pillow behind her back at her request, which allowed her to sit up a little and made drinking easier. Taking the proffered drink with her good arm, she brought the bottle to her lips and let the sugary fluid flow into her system.

    When Spike saw Buffy finally drinking the juice, his legs crumpled beneath him and he slumped to the floor, bracing himself heavily against the side of the bed.  "You were right, Slayer." He began in a tortured voice.  "I don't want to be alone."  His stormy blue eyes dug into hers, allowing her to see how much he hated himself for what he had done.  "Don't ever let me do that to you again." His voice broke off into a tormented whisper. "I can't lose you too. Please."

    Buffy stared heavily into the eyes of the monster responsible for almost killing her.  She put the empty bottle on the night table beside the bed and just held out her arms to him. With  a choked cry, Spike scrambled up off the floor and joined her on the bed, slipping quickly under the covers and into her outstretched arms, taking the second precious gift she had offered him that day. 

    "I'm sorry," he whispered, tears falling once more. But this time the tears were for her, not Drusilla.  His tears soaked the front of her shirt where he lay with his head on her chest, arms wrapped tightly around her.

    "Me too." She whispered back, running the fingers of one hand soothingly through his hair, knowing that she had tried to take the selfish way out at his expense.  "Let's just sleep a bit, ok? I'm kinda drained."

    Her attempt at humor was not acknowledged, and she was asleep again in minutes with one hand resting lightly on his neck, the other in his hair. He felt as her chin came to rest on the top of head.  Spike tightened his hold on her and joined her in slumber. 

    The next few days were spent on the same driving schedule, except now they allowed themselves a diversions along the way.  With the hours they traveled, entertainment choices where limited, but they did manage to see  a few movies and hit a few malls.  A round of miniature golf had even been attempted.  Seeing the Big Bad amid the mini scale backdrops almost brought a hint of laughter to Buffy's face, he had looked like a predator in Wonderland.  The fun loving game had quickly digressed into a fierce battle as their inherent competitive natures took hold, both wearing ferocious scowls by the time they were on their third hole.

    Not surprisingly, they didn't get to finish the game, being asked to leave long before rounding the final hole.  They had fallen back into their old pattern of insults and taunts with just a smidgeon of violence, with it escalating the longer they played.   Their savage display had parents running to keep their children back from the snarling duo and security being dispatched  to deal with the problem.  Buffy had to keep a hand on Spike's arm to prevent him from charging while he insisted they should be allowed to finish the game.  But with a threat  tossed out of calling the proper authorities, Buffy bodily dragged the enraged vampire back to the car.

    Once they were back on the road, Spike offered her a slight smile and commented, "That was fun, Slayer."

    Her lips had twisted into a wry grin. "Yeah, it was, Spike."  Their lighter mood hadn't lasted, as guilt had  wormed its way back into the car, dampening their spirits. But things were slightly different than before, now they allowed themselves to bear their guilt together rather than suffering in silence. It made things easier to cope, while bringing them closer together. 

    There were times when Buffy  felt disgusted with herself that her guilt over Angel was easing, that she was enjoying her time with Spike.  But her survival instinct had jump started after being so near death, causing her to look at life through different color glasses.  She often marveled at the depths Spike had kept hidden from view. Away from the influence of Drusilla and Angelus, he was so different.  It was ironic really, that the person she felt closest to happened to be another vampire.  But she was through questioning fate and just accepted what life had dealt her.

    Buffy had solved Spike's feeding situation, at least for a short term basis. She had found a butcher and bought some blood, preserving it in a cooler full of ice. Spike wouldn't have to worry about who his next meal was going be for a few days.  Her blood had restored him to his usual vigor, almost more so with the added power of her Slayer's blood.  There had been no further discussion about what had almost happened that day. To do so, would be admitting to the tender feelings they were beginning to develop for each other, and neither was ready to go there.  But that day had changed things in a fundamental way.

    The fourth day after the 'Let's make Buffy dead' episode, Spike turned into the circular driveway of a  large resort-like hotel. It was a complete turnaround from the typical dives they usually inhabited, and she arched an eyebrow in his direction in silent question.

    He shrugged nonchalantly. "Figured we could use a break from the shit holes we've been staying in.  Be nice not  to wonder if cockroaches are going to climb into the bloody bed with us."

    She nodded although her mind was brimming with questions. "Gotcha. No cockroaches for Spike."

    "Things are bloody disgusting."

    She held up her hands in mock surrender. "Hey, got it. No argument from me." Buffy pretended like she didn't hear his muttered, "Yeah, that'll be a first."

    By the time they made it up to their room, Buffy's urge for a shower and clean clothes was overshadowing all other thought.  She had been total grunge girl for so long, that she had begun to wear it like a second skin. But after walking through the plush lobby with all the smartly dressed people, she felt yucky. Like total major uber yuckage that only a hot shower and clean clothes could help to vanquish. New clothes would have been way preferable, but the last thing she wanted to do was ask Spike if they could go shopping. Besides, they had just stopped at a Laundromat the previous night and all of her clothes were now clean.

     Wallowing in self pity, the grandeur of the room didn't even make an impression on her. Spike was sprawled in one of the easy chairs, smoking  and watching Buffy. He tried to puzzle out what had set her off, then shrugged it off as a female thing. 

    "I'm going to go take a shower, " Buffy announced, grabbing her bag and heading for the bathroom.  Once inside, she was forced to appreciate the lavishness of the shower and the adjacent sunken tub.  Oh, what a far cry from the cracked dingy bathrooms she'd become accustomed to for the past three weeks, she thought.  This one, with its beautiful decor and lavish furnishing,  made her want to take the time  to make herself look pretty. The other bathrooms had just driven her to flee their depressing circumstances at the earliest moment possible.

    Forty five minutes later, Buffy emerged, feeling ten times better.  She'd actually used the hair dryer for once instead of just pulling her hair back in a messy ponytail. She was wearing a revealing little tank top and shorts pajama number that she hadn't worn before. Her skin, deprived of the sun for weeks, was pale and beautiful.   Spike eyes followed her as she stepped out of the bathroom and made her way to the bed, his cock jumping to attention at the sight of her. He had undressed and slipped into bed while she was in the shower, and was grateful that the lush comforter didn't reveal his instantaneous reaction.  Not that it would be the first time he'd had an erection around her....

    "Well, that's a little less than you usually wear." He commented, assuming a bored voice.

    Buffy just gave him a pointed look. "You're one to talk, Mr. Hello I Sleep Naked."

    Spike threw a teasing lewd smirk her way. "You coming to bed?"

    Buffy's response was to cross the room and crawled into the other side of the bed, offering him a tantalizing view of her firm breasts as she leaned over.  Immediately Buffy moved to search for the security blanket she knew she couldn't sleep without.  Spike slipped behind her and wrapped his arms around her, effectively spooning her against his hard bare chest.  She tensed briefly when she came into contact with his protruding erection, but quickly relaxed.  Sex was something that had yet to become an issue between them, both knowing that it would most likely destroy whatever was building between them.  Though sometimes she wished Spike would just take the initiative, as she often found herself craving more than just his comforting touch. 

    Both night stalkers drifted off quickly into slumber, the exhaustion of their continual travel wearing on them both. A travel with no real destination.  

    Buffy awoke first, hours earlier than usual.  Self doubt began plaguing her mind, shooting her to a completely wakeful state which she was unable to reverse. She began thinking about her mom, and her friends, wondering what was happening in her absence.  Buffy couldn't find herself feeling guilty about her defection with Spike, this had been the right thing to do. She couldn't even imagine trying to deal with things at home, with her Watcher, her friends.  Nobody else could understand the pain she was in, the enormity of what she'd had to do. Nobody, that is, except Spike. 

    Buffy looked over at him, her eyes trailing fondly over the sharp planes of his face, noticing that sleep softened his hard edges. Leaning over, she pressed a ghost of a kiss to his lips before slipping out of bed.  She was hungry and strangely restless. Usually they would stop at a mini-mart before holing up for the day, allowing Buffy to supply herself with processed fortification to make it through the day.  Most of the dives they stayed at were outdoor units on the outskirts of absolutely nowhere.  And while some possessed some sort of vending machines or had an adjacent restaurant, Buffy would usually have to wait until the sun went down to eat.  She had flat out refused to get behind the wheel of Spike's black monster, and Spike hadn't pushed the issue.

    Since this hotel was actually in possession of an elevator, a cafe and several shops within the massive lobby, they had bypassed the usual mini-mart run in favor of Buffy eating something that didn't come out of a package.  Spike had been a lot more aware of her eating habits since his little bite fest, and had gotten to the point of being a nag about her poor food intake.

    Quietly, Buffy changed in the bathroom, her stomach threatening to wake the sleeping vamp with its loud rumbling.  She got out her make up kit that had scarcely been touched since their journey began, but today she felt like sliding on the powerful armor that only make up can provide.  Taking one of her better outfits out of her satchel, she put it on, grimacing a bit when she witnessed how loosely the skirt now fit.  Her stomach seconded the motion with one last growl, and she grabbed a handful of her money that she had brought with her. Money that had never been used, Spike having paid for everything up until now. 

    Buffy wrote a quick note for Spike telling him that she was downstairs getting something to eat.  And as quietly as possible, she exited the room.  When the elevator let her off at the bottom floor, she almost turned around and went right back up.  The flood of panic that hit her almost paralyzing her, but she managed to push it down and forced her legs to move.

    Stepping out, she looked around, almost cringing at all the people walking around. God, what was wrong with her?  Three weeks in the company of one vampire, and she was freaking out in the real world?  She was pathetic, no question there.  Just as quickly as the mini panic attack had stuck, it thankfully passed, allowing her confidence  to return.  Surveying the lobby, she noticed that the cafe  was packed with people. Ok, mass people of the bad. Then she saw a little pub-type place further down that was dark and only had a few patrons milling about.  Much better, she decided, striding purposefully for the door that would take her inside. Her stomach grumbled again loudly when she caught sight of a huge basket of fries being set down at someone's table.

    'Ooooh... fries.' Buffy's eyes lit up and she took a seat at one of the tables closest to the bar.  The tables were made of  big thick oak with matching chairs, and the decor was rustic.  White napkins with simple silverware lined the tables, and the huge bar had rows of alcohol on varying shelves behind it.  Above the shelves, a huge mirror hung, taking up an entire wall.  Buffy figured at night this place was the hot spot, since there was a dance floor in one corner, and a sign reading  Two for One Drink Specials Every Night  hanging over one wall.  But at this hour, it was quiet, and the dim, cool atmosphere fit her perfectly.

+++++++++++++

    Three hours later, Spike drifted into a wakeful state, immediately sensing Buffy wasn't in the room.  With a hint of alarm, he leapt out of the bed and  looked around.  Spotting the note she left, he grunted, then noticed the time it had been written.  Wadding it up into a ball furiously, he threw it across the room and stormed into the bathroom to get dressed.  He couldn't figure out if he was worried or pissed,  just wanting her back with him.

    In under five minutes, he was in the lobby, a hard look set on his face.  Using her scent as his guide, he allowed it to pinpoint where she was.  Relief hit him when he realized she was still in the hotel. Then anger set in, and like the predator he was, he set off to find what he now considered his.

    Spike traced her to the little pub that he had planned on taking her to later, and he stood in the doorway surveying the scene.  His borrowed blood began to boil when he saw Buffy sitting on a bar stool talking with the ponce who was serving drinks behind the  bar. Buffy was smiling at something the git said, as he leaned across the thick, wood slab towards her. 

    With a possessive growl he slipped into the room and stalked towards Buffy, fighting the urge to slip into his game face and rip the bastard's head off. He didn't know where this rage was coming from, didn't particularly care, he just wanted Buffy back.

    Buffy's neck gave her that tingle that screamed 'vampire' and she whipped her head around.  What she saw had her breath frozen in her chest. Spike was coming at her with such burning intensity in his eye, it caused goosebumps to erupt along her skin. Usually when she had seen him this intent, he'd been trying to kill her.  This was so different.

    "I was worried about you, pet." He announced, his voice low and lethal.

    "Sorry. I, uh, got hungry." Buffy replied, wondering why she was so unnerved. She wasn't doing anything wrong; it's not like Spike was her boyfriend or anything.

    "You were gone a long time, baby." His voice was a low purr as he sidled up to her, rubbing his hands lightly up her bare arms.  Spike kept a piercing eye on the bloody git behind the bar,  who was staring at him with a hint of fear. Smart lad.

    "Lost track of time." Buffy smiled perkily at him, his touch affecting her more than she wanted to let on, but his nose clued him in.

    "What do you say we go back up to our room then, eh baby?"  Spike grabbed hold of her wrist and looked her in the eye, letting Buffy see the barely contained demon lurking there.

    "OK." She replied quickly, her heart speeding up as she slid off the stool. Turning to the bartender who had entertained her with his bragging stories over the last few hours, she said, "Nice talking to you, Brian. Good luck with that grad school thingie."

    Spike slipped his hand into hers, lacing  his fingers with hers and holding her possessively.  "Yeah, thanks mate, for keeping my girl here entertained."  He turned to leave, then with a sly grin, told the boy, "Think you need to get that monstrosity of a mirror fixed, mate.  Doesn't seem to be working."

    "Huh?" Brian asked with a perplexed look, looking behind him to the mirror that encompassed almost the entire wall. It took him a few seconds to process that he was seeing his reflection and that of the girl he'd been hoping to score with, but her scary boyfriend was totally absent. He turned back to Spike with fear and confusion in his eyes  only to be met by a cruel smirk.   Buffy rolled her eyes at the total male posturing.

    "Told ya so." Spike mocked, winking at him. "Come on, luv, let's blow this place."

    Brian watched as they left together, wondering if he should check to see if Buffy would be ok with whatever that guy was.  But fear of the unknown kept him silent on the matter.  Shakily, he grabbed a shot glass and helped himself. Perk of the job, and all that.

    On the way to the elevator, Buffy asked, "So, what was with the total bad moodies back there?"

    Spike didn't answer, just delivered a thunderous look her way.  The door to the elevator opened, and he stormed inside, pulling Buffy behind him.  Buffy watched him warily, his entire body exuded anger. And with Spike's major unpredictability, Buffy wasn't sure what was up.

     Spike punched their floor number, then after the elevator made its initial lurch, he slammed his hand on the 'emergency stop' button.  With the elevator halted between two floors, he turned to look into Buffy's disbelieving face.  "Oh my god, I so cannot believe you just did that." Buffy screeched, putting her hands on hips, eyes wide and accusing.

    Spike closed the few feet separating them, causing Buffy to back up until she was pressed flush against the wall of the elevator. Spike did not relent in his pursuit, and pressed his body against hers, placing one hand on each side of her head, palms flat against the smooth wall of the elevator. Leaning in close, he growled huskily, "Believe it, baby."

    Buffy shoved him hard in the chest, causing him to stumble back a step and she made her escape, ducking under one arm.  She spun around immediately, eyes wary. "What is with you?"  She knew what it was though, feeling that same undercurrent of desperation, with a healthy side order of lust.

    "This is what is with me." And again he closed the distance, except this time he crushed his lips to hers, hard and reckless. She stiffened initially, then gave herself over to the flush of desire that he had stirred up within her.  She snaked her arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly close as she granted him entry to her mouth.  With a low growl that sent shivers through her, Spike's tongue boldly invaded, sweeping through until her tongue rose up to duel.

    Spike groaned, and pulled her flush against him, his rigid cock close to bursting through his jeans. Tearing his mouth away to give her a chance to breath, he buried his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply the fruity scent of the hotel's shampoo, the sharp musk of desire, the tinges of smoke that still clung to her hair. But underneath it all, he could smell the intoxicating scent of her blood pumping away beneath her luscious skin. He made a decision just then.

    Pulling his face away, he forced himself to look into the passion glazed green eyes in front of him. Cupping her face, he asked hoarsely, "Buffy.. do you want me?"

    Speech alluded her, but Buffy managed to nod her head in response, trying to resist the urge to throw herself back at him.  His next words startled her for a moment.

    "Do you trust me?" 

    Buffy nodded her head slowly, then with more conviction as she realized just how much she did. Every moment she was with him, her life was in his hands. He'd had thousands of opportunities to kill her, and had never tried. Even the one time when he almost did had been an accident. Yes, she was the slayer, but if she were to wake up with a neck full of fang, she'd be in a bad place.  "Yes." She finally said, wondering where this was leading.

    He smiled, the first true smile she had ever seen from him, and it was beautiful, dazzling. He was beautiful.  Spike captured her lips again, causing Buffy to sigh with pleasure, even as a hint of guilt tried to sneak its way in, telling her that she didn't deserve to feel such pleasure.  Casting it aside, she focused her everything on the man in her arms.

    When he once again released her mouth, she took deep breaths to replenish her depleted oxygen; his face once again went into the groove of her neck. She hissed in pleasure when she felt his tongue dart out and lick a path, then shivered as he blew a stream of cool air on the area he had just lavished.  Closing her eyes and tipping her head back, she granted him full access to her neck. Just what he was waiting for, her gift of trust.  She barely had time to acknowledge the feel of sharp ridges emerging against her tender flesh before a sharp, piercing pain assaulted her as his fangs slid into her skin.

    Buffy tensed up, gasping in shock, but Spike was prepared for her flight and kept a firm grip on her.  He kept his fangs in just long enough before sliding them out and licking the wound, nicking his tongue purposely on one elongated tooth to mix their blood together.  "Trust me." He whispered against her skin before returning to the jagged puncture marks on her neck, worrying them with his tongue. This would scar, as it was intended to.

    "What did you do?" Buffy bit out, trying to ignore the delicious sensations Spike's actions were causing, or the flood of moisture that now had her underwear soaked.

    When he was satisfied it had been seen to properly, he pulled his head back, letting himself get lost in her eyes. "You're mine now." He said simply.

    "You claimed me?!!" Buffy asked slightly aghast, clapping her hand to the burning wounds on her neck.  But it wasn't horror or anger that came with the accusation, it was a feeling of relief, and she didn't know just quite what to make of it. When she had learned about claims and mating from Giles, it had seemed so.. barbaric. But now? Now all she could felt was a sense of liberation, a feeling of completion.  She wouldn't have to be alone now.

     Spike nodded, confirming her accusation. "Why?" She asked

    "Because I can't lose you, pet." He said softly, cupping the side of her face. "You're all I've got."

    Slowly Buffy's lips curved up into a smile, and Spike let out the breath he'd been anxiously holding. "So this means we're stuck with each, doesn't it?" She asked in a teasing tone.

Present day

   Buffy jumped as a loud banging noise from the front room reverberated throughout the house, startling her from the bittersweet memories she had lapsed into once again.  Whipping around to face the sudden commotion,  Buffy watched the open entryway with growing anticipation. The heavy footsteps grew louder as they neared the kitchen, then stopped as the person responsible was framed in the doorway.

    "Hello, luv." Spike drawled, holding his welcoming arms open to her.

    "Hi." She answered back, a big goofy smile plastered on her face as she threw herself into his waiting embrace.  "I missed you."

    "Was only gone an hour, pet." He reminded her, amused by her mood.

    "Yeah, and I missed you, you big idiot."

    "Now, now. No need for name calling. So, what's put you into this little mood?"

    "Oh nothing. Well, ok, I was just remembering all the bad things that happened in Sunnydale and the stuff that happened before we finally ended up here. And I just realized again how happy I am now." Buffy admitted, sneaking her arms up to circle his neck, pressing herself fully against his hard frame.

    "Yeah." Spike agreed blissfully.  "So....since we're so happy, care to venture upstairs?"

    "Hello, bowling night."

    "Oh, right." Spike said regretfully, but not even the promise of fantastic sex could interrupt bowling night. Bowling had taken the place of their previous attempts to kill each other, providing just enough challenge and more than enough opportunity for taunts and sly innuendo. They both had needed to temper their strength significantly which only added to the challenge, but they still managed to shatter the occasional pins.  And at least one ball a month.

    They had joined a bowling league not long after arriving in town, consisting of a group of blue collar men and women who eagerly welcomed them into their town and their lives without a hint of reservation. Before long, their league had quickly become like family. And if they suspected something was off with Spike not leaving the house during the day, or Buffy's freaky strength, nothing was ever said.  

    Spike didn't want to admit that those nights spent bowling with Buffy and their new friends were some of the best nights he'd ever had in his life.  But, he loved it here. His life was so different now compared to the the evil and chaos he had embraced before.  But he couldn't complain, this new life with Buffy was indescribable. In this town, he was a man, not a monster. Something he hadn't even known he craved until it had happened.  His bloodlust still raged, his urge to rip out the throats of everybody in town taunting him daily.  But then he'd think about how empty life would be the next day without his friends and Buffy, and his lust would be beaten down.

       As soon as they had pulled into this quaint little town after their long escape from Sunnydale, Buffy and Spike had both looked at each other and smiled. They were finally here. After a month and a half of wandering the country, they had found their new home.  And they didn't plan on ever leaving.

Part 2

    Two weeks had passed in a peaceful haze since the last bittersweet memory of the cross country trek in the old Desoto had snuck its way into Buffy's head. At times, it almost felt as if she'd been reborn, that this peaceful bliss was her reward for her past sacrifices and the risks she'd been forced to take night after night. Yet that  thin shroud of pain that continued to shadow her just laughed at her naivety. The world just did not work in that way.  If it did, Buffy wouldn't have felt compelled  to flee her family and friends with her mortal enemy rather than face their disproving eyes while false insincerity dripped from their mouths.  But whatever it was, Buffy just knew she was happy and content now, something that had long been missing from her life.

    Spike and Buffy were approaching the six month anniversary since they had first arrived in this small, intimate town, two fractured hearts trying to heal. Outside their previous influences, it had ceased to matter that one was a vampire and the other the Slayer. Now they were simply two people starting a new life together, and doing a bang up job of falling in love.

      The people of the town still had no clue about the monster that lived among them.  At first, Buffy had been seriously paranoid about anybody finding out, constantly on the lookout for mirrors in which he would cast no reflection. The invitation barrier also took some working around, but luckily most people just found them exceedingly polite. For a while, Buffy had felt like she needed to keep a strict eye on him, because hello, he was still a vampire.  But she had yet to regret placing her faith and trust in him as their relationship deepened.

     Eventually, her paranoid vigil relaxed as she began to get the feeling that it wouldn't be such a total big if Spike was found out. He seemed so completely different from the cocky, evil vampire from Sunnydale, that it hadn't taken her long to realize that the whole "Big Bad" image had been just an act. The Spike she slept with every night was the real Spike, and the real Spike was far less evil than he'd made himself out to be. Buffy was beginning to realize that Spike considered this town his, and not in a diabolically evil Master vampire way either. He didn’t view  the town’s people as his own personal food source; rather, a lot of them had become his friends.

     A month after settling in, Buffy had gotten a job working the evening shift four days a week in the emergency room of the town’s only hospital. She had needed something to fill the void that her new non-slayage status had left, so she'd gotten her EMT certification and then applied for an open position in the ER. Thanks to the false paperwork that Spike had managed to acquire, her age was now listed as 21, and her last name matched the falsified documents that Spike had also managed to procure for himself. The whole forged document thing and then finding out she was supposedly legally wed to Spike had Buffy a bit wigged at first until Spike explained in his mockingly  patient tone that they would stand out less if they bore the same last name since they were living together. As far as everyone knew, they were married and had all the necessary documents to prove it. To Buffy's irritation, he had one again proven himself correct.

    She wasn't quite sure what to expect working in the medical field, but  soon found herself looking forward to going to work each day. Her hours of 4pm to midnight meshed perfectly with the night owl hours Spike kept, leaving them plenty of time together while letting Buffy discover her own independence. Her job at the hospital was completely different than her previous "job" of slaying. For the first time, Buffy was being thanked for her help. Ok, so maybe it wasn't the total life saving stuff like before, or even as important as the roles of the doctors and nurses, but she was still part of a necessary team. And it was a good team. They saved lives sometimes, and were there to help people through some of the bleakest hours of their lives.  Buffy was appreciated for her efforts, by the patients, and especially by the staff.  She just fit in here, and it was another thing she would have missed out on if she had stayed in Sunnydale.

    On those days when Buffy would work, Spike spent the time apart from her huddled in front of the laptop he had recently purchased.  He didn't want to admit to her that he was indulging in one of the pastimes he had enjoyed when he was human, but she had caught him at it just recently and he finally confessed that he was working on a novel.  Instead of the ridicule he had expected, Buffy just smiled encouragingly and told him she wanted to read it when he was ready. That had been it, nothing else was said, and Buffy didn't pry. Spike didn't even think she realized what a precious gift she had given him by just simple encouragement alone, and it seemed to open the floodgates to his brain. The horror story that had been rattling around in his brain now screamed to be released, and his fingers could barely keep up as they flew across the keyboard in time with the words flowing out of his brain.

    Within the first month, he had completed half of his novel, and the rest was just begging to be revealed. Buffy would watch him as he would write, barely able to believe that a creature who had so much nervous energy could keep still for so long to write. She loved watching him, the way his eyebrows knitted together in concentration, the way the tip of his tongue would just peek out from between his harsh determined lips.  Often times it was the smell of her acute arousal that would break his spell and alert him that she was home, only to find herself thrown over his shoulder and taken upstairs to be properly ravished.  Life was good.

     Their once a week bowling night was something that neither Spike or Buffy ever missed. Thursday night had once again rolled around, and like clockwork, they strolled hand in hand through the glass double doors, their bowling bags slung casually over their shoulders. Greetings were immediately tossed their way, and Spike and Buffy warmly replied back in kind. They strolled over to where their group had settled a few minutes earlier for their requisite session of weekly gossip.

      Leaving the women to their friendly chitchat, the men headed over to take care of the important details. Namely, the manly beer run. 

    Buffy sat down in one of the plastic chairs next to her friend Elaine, who began talking her ear off about the new products she had just started stocking in  the beauty salon she owned. Elaine's husband Rick was off with Spike, and Elaine was anxious to get in some girl talk. She was on the low end of thirty, and while she may have been slim at one time, she now wore an extra twenty pounds  around her middle.  Her features were attractive, though somewhat muted by the slight fullness of her face, and her long blonde hair was always artfully coiffed. Buffy had never seen Elaine when her make up hadn't been carefully applied, and had requested her expertise in that area.   From the moment they had been introduced, Elaine and Buffy had clicked, and she had become Buffy's best friend since moving to Windmont.  Rick and Spike had an easy friendship, and the two couple usually spent two or three night a week together.

    "Sooooo.." Elaine began meaningfully, "how are you and Spike doing?"

    Buffy laughed, commenting, "Geez, you ask me that every time I see you!!"

    "Yeah, and you always smile your little happy smile and say 'good' in that dreamy voice of yours," Elaine replied in exasperation.  "I mean, come on. Look at the guy."  Buffy couldn't help but do just that as Spike came back carrying a few pitchers of beer. The well built physique of Elaine's husband trailing a step behind, a pitcher locked in his grip as well.

     Spike had come up with a retro black bowling shirt he'd bought in the local second hand store, and had Spike embroidered over the pocket. The shirt, together with his black jeans, black and white bowling shoes and his bleached blonde hair slicked back in its familiar style, he cut quite a stunning picture.  His retro bowling outfit was always cause for ribbing, but he took it good-naturedly.  Little did they know that prior to their arrival in Windmont, Spike would have ripped the throat out of anyone who mocked him.  Now he just laughed it off and dished it right back. 

    "Oh yeah, I'm totally looking," Buffy announced lustily, staring unabashedly. Spike caught her gaze, and ran his tongue slowly over his pearly whites, while cocking his head, his smoky intense gaze boring into her own eyes.  "And I think I'll be doing a whole lot more than looking after we finish bowling tonight," Buffy added, causing her friend to laugh.  Spike winked at her, knowing full well the direction of Buffy's thoughts. He brought her coke over, and thus league night had officially began.

    By the fifth frame, the other five couples were watching what they had long since coined the Spike and Buffy show, as they tried to out bowl each other.  Both exhibited such smooth grace and deadon precision, sending the ball hurtling down the lane, almost always destroying all the pins sitting in its path. They were always something to watch. All the women married or not watched Spike, and each deciding long ago that he possessed that animal magnetism  they had only read about in books.  

    There was no doubt that Spike was popular among their group. All the men liked his outspoken British views and considered him a lucky bastard for being independently wealthy like he apparently was, and for being married to a girl like Buffy.  There was a dangerous edge to him, something that had made them pause for just a moment when they had first met him, but now it didn't even register anymore.  The women of the group liked Spike's gentle teasing and appreciated the sex appeal that just seemed to ooze from him.  It was the  general consensus that Spike and Buffy were perfectly suited, and nobody doubted their affections for each other. Theirs was a close knit group, aware of the aspects of the others lives. And while the deception sometimes weighed heavily on Buffy, she valued being treated like a normal person for once. Far too much to tell her friends the truth.

     Sometimes she wondered just what her new friends would think if they knew just what exactly Spike was.  And what she had been in her former life.This town was so far off the radar of the demon populace  that it had taken Buffy a few seconds to react when she had been confronted with the one and only vampire she had seen in the entire six months that they had lived there. Luckily, she had been by herself, and had dispatched it with little difficulty.

    No, the supernatural and Windmont were unmixy things, and that suited Buffy perfectly. Spike, her new friends, bowling, and her job were more than enough for her.

tbc...