Alone With You

by SpikesKat

Chapter 1

Spike turned as he watched Willie burst in through the double doors leading into the main sanctum of the church.

“Are you tripping?! You bring her here? Now?” he roared as he came down from the altar and walked towards the small group surrounding the blond slayer.

“You said you wanted her,” Willie announced.

“In the ground, pinhead. I wanted her dead,” he growled as he got in the bartender’s face.

“Now, that’s not what I heard. Word was there was a bounty on her dead or alive.”

“You heard wrong, Willy.”  His amber gaze narrowed on the idiot that had brought the slayer to him right as he was trying to finish his revitalization spell.

“Angel?” Buffy whispered as she watched both him and Drusilla lashed together, their arms held clasped by the knife protruding from both of their hands.

Spike turned away from contemplating the bartender’s death to reply snarkily, “Yeah, it bugs me, too, seeing them like that. Another five minutes though, and Angel will be dead, so…I forebear.  Don’t feel bad for Angel, though, he’s got something you don’t have.”

“What’s that?” she asked, her face scrunching in a sneer.

“Five minutes.”

Spike’s gaze shifted to the red-haired woman from the Order of Taraka.

“Patrice.”

The woman needed no further urging, quickly shoving the slayer into the waiting arms of the minion standing next to her.  Reaching into her holster, she extracted a pistol, prepared to finish her contractual obligation and kill the slayer.

Before the assassin had a chance to make good on her threat, a commotion sounded behind the group, and suddenly the two minions standing in back of the woman were kicked aside, as everyone tumbled forward, the slayer was able to jerk free from their grasp. 

Buffy quickly regrouped and both she and Kendra stood before Spike as he managed to regain his footing.

“Who the hell is this?”

Kendra grabbed Spike by the lapels of his leather duster.

“It’s your lucky day, Spike,” Buffy announced, the sarcasm dripping from her voice like honey.

“Two slayers,” Kendra added, just before she punched him.  The power of her left cross sent the vampire’s head snapping to the side.

“No waiting,” Buffy finished, delivering a sharp right jab to Spike’s nose sending him to the floor.  She turned and confronted the red-haired woman decked out in police garb, leaving Kendra to deal with Spike.

Buffy mentally prepared herself as the woman held her arms to the side allowing two deadly blades to extend from their hiding place in her police jacket.  The two combatants eyed each other, assessing possible battle scenarios as a vampire slowly gained his feet near them.  Buffy glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and watched as a bow protruded from the front of his chest where his heart lay, moments before turning to dust.

The cavalry had arrived.

Just then, the woman attacked.  One hand followed the other as she attempted to gut her target.  Buffy blocked each attack, grabbing first on arm then the other, before delivering a knee to the woman’s stomach following in quick succession with a swift kick that sent the woman flying back against the wall.

~*~

On the other side of the room, Kendra was engaged in a fierce battle with Spike.  The two traded blows back and forth, neither able to gain the upper hand. 

Unfortunately, Kendra was getting winded.

~*~

Buffy easily sent the woman reeling into the wall over and over again as she repeatedly tried to charge the slayer.  Behind her, she could sense Kendra weakening, could hear Spike as his blows continued to connect with the other slayer. 

Shoving the redheaded woman against the wall once more, she turned and called out, “Switch.”

Kendra needed no further urgings. Rolling over her sister slayer’s back and confronting the female assassin, she delivered a kick to the woman that sent her slamming back (once again) into the wall behind her.

~*~

Once Kendra had cleared her back, Buffy stood and confronted Spike, arms poised before her in a defensive pose. 

“I’d rather be fighting you anyway,” Spike announced, his gaze narrowing on the blond slayer who now stood before him.

“Mutual.”

Spike moved to attack, but Buffy sent him reeling with a front kick to the face followed by a roundhouse to his stomach.  It didn’t stop him for long, and he rushed towards her, fists flying in a blur of motion that the slayer was just barely able to block.  Then, she faltered and Spike was able to deliver a jarring punch to her stomach momentarily knocking the wind from her.

She recovered and delivered a punch that snapped his head followed by a quick backhanded blow to the face using the same hand.  Grabbing the front of his jacket, she twirled him around her to gain momentum, before launching the vampire into the wall halfway across the room behind her.

Spike slammed into the wall and crumpled to the ground.  He recovered quickly, a growl emanating from his chest.  Turning, he caught sight of the traitorous bartender and moved to intercept his escape.  He was just about to bite the git when he noticed the slayer trying to pull Angel down from his tether.

He rushed after her, throwing her against the wall before she was able to get his grandsire free.  As she started to rise, he backhanded her, sending her to the floor once more.

~*~

Across the room, Kendra went flying over a pew.  Her attacker vaulted over it, swinging her arms in an attempt to draw blood.  This slayer wasn’t on her current contract, but she didn’t think the Order would mind too much.

Finally, her blade managed to connect with the dark-skinned girl’s arms, tearing her sleeve and leaving a horizontal slash across her upper arm.

“That’s me favorite shirt,” Kendra hollered, anger rising in her voice as she took in the ruined item. “That’s me only shirt.”

Furious, Kendra kicked the woman in the back of the leg then grabbed the front of her coat and threw her into a support beam.  She struggled to her feet, kicking the debris off of her as she lunged at the slayer.

Kendra was waiting for the attack; as the woman launched herself at her, she used the woman’s momentum to fling her across the room behind her.  Unfortunately, Kendra didn’t see where she was throwing the woman.

The red-haired assassin’s arms flailed wide as she soared through the air towards the bound vampires.  Since the vampiress was slumped backwards, her back almost parallel to the floor, Patricia sailed between the two instead of into the pair as they dangled in the air.  She tried to bring her arms together in front of her in an attempt to break her headlong rush into the far wall that was rapidly approaching.  By some cruel twist of fate, the blades that extended from her arms sliced through the necks of the two dangling vampires as she attempted to brace herself for impact.  The sound of her slamming into the wall prevented her from hearing the two demons crumble to dust behind her.

It didn’t prevent her from hearing the simultaneous bellows of rage behind her.

~*~*~*~*~

Buffy had just regained her footing when she saw the pseudo-cop fly through the air towards where Angel and Drusilla dangled from their tethers.  She ignored Spike as he moved to strike her again, instead remaining transfixed on the scene playing out in slow motion behind her.  Her horror must have been evident on her face, because suddenly Spike stopped mid-attack to see what had happened to cause the slayer to ignore him completely.

He turned just in time to watch the Order’s female assassin sail between the two.

“Dru?” he managed to whisper.  Vaguely, he thought her heard the slayer behind him mumble Angel’s name.

Then his world fell apart.  He watched at the woman crashed into the wall moments before his sire and grandsire crumbled to dust.

“Drusilla!”

“Angel!”

The two cried out at the same time, as they stared aghast at the empty dangling ropes. 

Buffy was the first to react, practically vaulting over Spike to reach the spot where Angel once hung.  Spike wasn’t that far behind her.  The two stared down at the twin piles of dust on the raised, red platform.  Neither acknowledged the other, both overcome by grief that quickly turned to a burning rage.

Their heads popped up, fixated on the moan emanating from the woman as she struggled to her feet.  Twin pairs of eyes narrowed on the woman leaning heavily on the wall behind her, her labored breathing coming in shuddering gasps.

A low growl sounded near her, and the assassin looked up in time to see the peroxide-blond vampire leap at her. 

Furious beyond belief, Spike grabbed the woman by her throat and used one hand to dangle her in the air. 

“You killed my dark princess, you bloody bitch!” he raged as he slowly squeezed her neck, crushing her windpipe.

Buffy watched Spike as he slowly choked the life from the human, and she couldn’t seem to make herself care.  If he hadn’t done it, she was sure that the redheaded bitch would have become her first human kill.  Not that she really thought of the woman as human…no, she was a member of the Order of Taraka, and that made her fair game.

She glanced back down at the two identical piles of dust.  She couldn’t just leave them there like that.  It just didn’t seem right.  Turning away, she let her eyes roam over the dilapidated church, trying to find something to put the ashes in, and encountered the stunned faces of the Scoobies as they stood on the far side of steadily growing fire that had created a wall between them.  She figured she had another five minutes before the blaze engulfed the entire church, so she pushed herself into action.

Shouting for the others to leave and that she’d catch up with them later, Buffy turned to find something to hold the two sets of ashes.  Even in her pain, she wouldn’t be so cruel as to grab Angel’s and not Drusilla’s.  Her eyes finally lighted on two small, metal containers, and she hurried back to the piles as she watched the flames slowly work their way up the side of one wall.

Squatting down on the steps, she carefully brushed first one and then the other mound of dust into the two separate containers.  Finished, she glanced up to see Spike still dangling the helpless woman from his raised arm.  He obviously had every intention of taking his time killing her, but unfortunately, time wasn’t on their side.

“Spike?”

“Spike!”

His head swiveled at her shout, his amber gaze narrowing on her face.  He just now seemed to realize the blaze erupting behind him.

“We’ve got to get out of here.  This place is going to go up any minute now.  Kill her and let’s go.”

Her words shocked him, causing him to gape at her in astonishment.  Then, a reluctant half-smile played across his lips before he turned back to the woman he still held suspended in the air.

“You heard the lady.  Time to die.”

He let her slide down so her feet were barely touching the ground.  In a practiced move, he brought his other hand up to her head, and with a quick twist he broke her neck, allowing her limp body to fall to the ground.  He gazed down at her for a moment before he turned towards the slayer.

“The side exit!  Hurry!” she called as she grabbed the two containers and made a dash for the door.  Spike was right behind her, leery of the flames licking close to their heels.

The two burst through the door and into the night.  Buffy stopped to pull in great gulps of fresh air, her body bent over the two containers held protectively in her grasp.

Spike just watched her as she coughed repeatedly from all the smoke-filled air she had inhaled.  He made no move to attack her; they’d seemed to bond in that moment of their heartbreaking loss.  And, he couldn’t help the grin that came to his face has he recalled her shout for him to kill the woman already.  He had to wonder what her watcher would say about that!

Honoring their unspoken truce, he turned to walk away, leaving the slayer to make her way back to her friends.  They could always resume their fight tomorrow.  Besides, he needed to lick his wounds in the aftermath of his Sire’s dusting.

Then he heard her voice softly call his name.  He glanced over his shoulder, not bothering to turn around.

“A truce, slayer.  Just for tonight.  It won’t ever happen again.”

He started to walk off again into the night, but she called his name again…this time a little louder as the fresh air started to fill her lungs.

He stopped where he was, gazing off into the distance.

“Here.”

Spike turned and saw the slayer carrying two containers, one held outstretched in her arm.  The blaze, as it enveloped the church, illuminated her face, and he saw the telltale signs of her tears as they slipped unheeded down her face.  He knew how she felt, and when he was alone, he’d probably give in to the emotions already evident on her features.  His gaze slid from her face to take in the box she held out to him.

She didn’t say anything.  Just waited.  When he still made no move to take it, she realized that he probably didn’t know what it was.  He’d been so intent on killed the person that had murdered Angel and Drusilla, he didn’t notice as she’d scooped their ashes into the containers.

His blue eyes shifted from the container back to her face.  She was trying desperately not to completely break down, as if saying anything would make it more real, more final.  She started forward, closing the distance between them.

“It’s…” she tried to swallow around the lump in her throat.  “It’s…Dru.”

Spike stared down at the box she had suddenly thrust into his hands.  His eyes were fixated on the container as the slayer turned and walked away.  The tears he’d held at bay glimmered in his eyes; the realization that his sire was no more, her remains lying nestled within the confines of the box held dearly in his hands ripped violently through his body.  In that brief moment, the Big Bad persona was gone.  In his place stood the lost soul of William, beaten and broken by the society of long ago.

He didn’t know what to say.  He’d been so busy seeking his revenge, he’d never stopped to think about the pile of ashes his sire had become.  But, the slayer had.  She’d not only scooped up her lost love’s, she taken a moment to grab her mortal enemy's.  He was at a loss.  That the slayer would show that type of compassion…

Words just escaped him.

In the end, he just whispered a soft thank you to her retreating back.  Watched as she paused momentarily in her tracks before giving him a sharp nod as she resumed her pace.

Spike too, turned, and made his way into the night.

Chapter 2

Buffy wandered aimlessly throughout the remainder of the night, not wanting to meet up with her friends and see their looks of forced compassion.  She thought about going home, but didn’t want to have to deal with her mother right now…or... Wait!  Her mom was out of town. But, she still didn’t want to go home alone.  Instead, she walked listlessly through the darkened streets, uncaring about anything. 

She wasn’t surprised when she found herself standing at the front door to Angel’s apartment.  It was here, after all, that she felt his presence the most.  Sighing with resignation, she twisted the knob and opened the door.  A brief smile flitted across her features when she noticed that it turned easily.  Apparently, no one wanted to steal from the undead.

She walked inside then turned to close the door behind her.  The slayer leaned against it for a moment, her forehead resting wearily against the unyielding wood, refusing to turn around and glance at his things.  Buffy held the container tightly to her chest as tears of anguish slipped unheeded down her cheeks.  Finally, she pushed herself away from the door and flicked the light switch on. She turned and glanced about the room, her eyes taking in his belongings.

Everything was as she had left it earlier.  Papers were scattered on his desk off to the left, his chair pulled out like he had found out something important, stood up hurriedly, and left.  Her booted feet clicked softly on the hard flooring as she moved further into the room.  She ran her hand lovingly along the arm of his couch as she made her way towards his bed.  Nothing had changed here either.  The covers were still thrown back from when she had awoken earlier, dazed and wondering why he hadn’t returned home. 

Buffy lay down on the bed, curling into a tight ball as she cradled the box holding Angel’s remains close to her side.  Feeling somewhat safe, she allowed her grief to overtake her and she poured out her heart into the pillow as she lay in his bed.  Sobs racked her body and she cried for what seemed like hours before finally falling into an exhausted sleep.

~*~

She walked barefoot along the beach, her blond hair and red sundress blowing softly in the wind.  Eyes closed, she lifted her face to the breaking dawn, allowing the peace of the setting to envelop her.  She felt strong arms slip around her waist, pulling her back against a hard frame.  Her own hands slid down to wrap over his as he held her close.

His face leaned down over her shoulder, and she turned to see his dark features.

Her hand lifted to caress his cheek as she asked softly, “How did you find me here?”

“If I was blind I would see you.”

She smiled softly at his fervently whispered promise, snuggling closer to him.

“Stay with me?”

“Forever…That’s the whole point.  I’ll never leave.”

Her eyes flew open as she was startled awake, pulled from her dream by some unknown noise…or sixth sense.  It wasn’t a vampire.  No, this was something else.  She lay there on the bed unmoving, her breathing deep and even as if she still slumbered.

She didn’t have long to wait before the battle cry reached her ears – his mistake – and she rolled to the far side of the bed just before the two axes imbedded deep in the mattress where her body once lay.  A quick kick by her forced the attacker to release the weapons that remained stuck in the bed as he went crashing back against the far wall.  Holding tight to Angel’s container, she vaulted off the bed and raced towards the door and out into the night.

Apparently, the Order of Taraka hadn’t given up on her yet.  She was going to have to have a word with Spike and get him to call off his goon squad.

~*~*~*~*~

Spike looked at the container that held his sire’s ashes.  He was still in shock that the slayer had done it…had given him some small piece of Dru.  He made his way through the various cemeteries of Sunnyhell trying to find someplace to crash for the night.  He didn’t want to go back to the factory, see all the reminders of his dark princess: the frilly dresses she wore, her dolls, the empty birdcage.  He needed some place where he could think…and grieve.  For even though he was evil, he’d loved his Dark Princess.  His sire.

He finally came to a stop in front of a crypt, his eyes lifted to take in the name etched in the stone.  Le Morte.  How appropriate.  He pushed his way inside, his sick sense of humor caused him to laugh at the name.  Death, indeed, was the place he wanted to be tonight.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat inside the crypt staring down at the container gripped tightly in his hands.  His jaw worked as he allowed his rage to consume him.  He was alone.  Drusilla.  Angelus.  Darla.  The Master.  They were all gone, leaving him the head of Aurelius.  He smirked at that.  The head of one.  The once great Aurelius line was now reduced to a lone master.  Oh, he was sure there were others in the line floating around the various continents, probably even some other masters that he was unaware of.  But, he was the direct descendent of the master's favored childe…not that it mattered anymore.

His eyes narrowed as a sudden thought came to him.  He’d make it matter.  Make the Order regret ever killing his sire.  He’d rebuild the Aurelius Empire and take on the Order of Taraka. 

Spike cocked his head to the side as he sniffed the air.  Someone, or something was trying to sneak up on him.  Well, weren’t they in for a bit of a surprise…

He placed the container holding Dru’s ashes behind the sarcophagus and listened as the crypt door creaked open.  The person was obviously human…yet, there was no trace of fear that he could smell.  That had him slightly confused.  What human would be out in the early hours of dawn and not have a trace of fear running through them?  For a moment, he thought it might be the slayer, but his vampiric senses didn’t detect anything. 

Shrugging, unconcerned, he waited for the human to make his presence known. 

His eyes widened when he heard the crypt door shut behind the human.  Brave git, wasn’t he?  Faint sounds of metal clinking could be heard as barely-there footsteps moved about the open space and Spike’s brow drew down in a frown before he suddenly figured out what it belonged to... right about the time he smelled the gas.

Bloody hell!

Peeking his head over the sarcophagus, he cursed under his breath as his suspicions were confirmed.  Swathed from head to toe in black, a silver canister strapped to his back, stood a huge behemoth of a man.  The ring on his left hand gleamed against his dark skin as the man scanned the surroundings for his quarry.  

Bloody buggerin’ hell!  The bastard had a flamethrower!

He needed to get out of there.  Vampires and flames did NOT go together.  Decision made, he waiting until the git had walked further into the crypt, away from the sarcophagus he was crouched behind.  Grabbing Dru’s container, he made a mad dash for the crypt door.  He managed to pull it open, scramble through the opening, and slam it shut before the whoosh of the flamethrower resounded in his ears – the flames slamming harmlessly into the steel door.

He needed to get out of there, and fast.  Spike had no destination in mind as he took off running deeper into the cemetery, determined to put as much distance between himself and his would-be stalker.  It was probably better that way.  By picking a random destination, someplace he’d never been before, whoever it was that wanted him dust would have no way of pinpointing his location. 

Spike was so deep in thought that he never heard the footsteps on a collision course with his.  Never felt the vampiric senses that were screaming “Slayer” in bold letters until she slammed into him.

“Bloody hell,” he roared as the slayer crashed into him like a rock, momentarily unbalancing him.

“Spike!” Buffy yelled, after she made sure the container she carried wasn’t disrupted in their bone-crushing collision.  “What are you doing here?”

“Could ask the same thing of you, Slayer.”

Her eyes narrowed on him at his flippant response.  Anger.  Anger was good; it took her mind away from her heart wrenching loss. 

“I…uh…it’s no business of yours what I’m doing.  And where are you off to in such an all-fired hurry?”

“Just putting a little distance between me and the giant back there.”

“Giant?”

“Yeah, some bloody wanker that thinks the Big Bad would make great target practice…and with a bloody flamethrower, no less.  So, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be shoving off.”

“Wait!  Before you go…you need to call off the Order.”  She watched as he turned around, a puzzled look on his face.  “I think it’s the least you could do…”

That’s when the light bulb went off in his brain.  The ring.  The bloody ring!  Looks like he’d just been placed on the Order’s hit list.  Great!  This is just what he needed.

“I wish I could, slayer.”  He cut her off before she could shout her protestations from her opened mouth.

“I think yours truly just got added to that list.”

“Crap.”  She moved and sat upon a headstone as she thought over the downhill swirl her life had suddenly become.

“In a word, yeah.”

Spike leaned against a tree and watched as the slayer seemed to deflate before his eyes.  His head whipped around as he heard footsteps coming towards them.  Apparently, he hadn’t backtracked enough.  He pushed himself away from the tree and crossed to the slayer.  Slipping a hand underneath her arm, he hauled her to her feet.

“Come on, slayer, we’ve gotta get outta here.  He’s tracked me.  And, I don’t think he’s gonna be too particular if he comes across you first.”

“Huh?”

“Behemoth.  Flamethrower.  Ringin' any bells?”  Not waiting for her mind to hear what he was saying, he hauled her after him, not letting go until she matched his pace.

“We need someplace to hide…and quick.  Someplace no one would think to look for you, or me, for that matter.  Sun’s gonna be up soon, and as much as it pains me to say it…the two of us together are much better odds than us going it alone right now.”

“What are you saying?  That we form a truce?”

“I’m all you’ve got, slayer.  And, apparently, you’re all I’ve got right now, too.”

“Alright.  Just for today.  Come dusk, you’re on your own.  Giles will figure out a way to stop them…”

“You don’t get it!  They’re never going to stop.  They’ll keep coming and coming, until the job is done.”  The two continued to run side by side, their gaze scanning over the area for possible hiding places.  They’d managed to run back into town and still couldn’t think of a place where they could go and be safe.  And dawn was quickly approaching…

“I think we should hit the sewers.”  Buffy couldn’t believe the words she’d just uttered.

The two had come to a stop in deserted, downtown Sunnydale.  The idea had come to her as she’d gazed across the street and glanced at the gutter.

Spike had to agree with her logic, and he found a reluctant smile cross his features.

“Right!  They’ll provide us a means to move around and not allow us to get pinned in one place.  Slayer, I like the way you think.  There’s a couple different hideaways.  We can spend a few hours in each place and take turns resting.”

Spike grabbed her free hand and hauled her towards the nearest access.  His demon was hollering at him to get indoors, and quick.  She didn’t say anything, just raced after him towards the entrance.  Crouching by the manhole, he handed her his box, and easily lifted the lid back, exposing the dark, watery tunnels below.

“Gimme those and get down the stairs.  I’ll drop them down to you once you’ve reached the bottom.”

Buffy nodded, handing him her container.  She flew down the stairs and easily caught the metal containers as Spike dropped them to her.  Watched as he came down the first few rungs before pulling the lid over top of him.  She wasn’t surprised to see his game face when he descended the last few steps.  It was dark down in the tunnels, and he’d need his enhanced vision to guide them until the sun was able to provide some feeble form of lighting.

She didn’t even protest when he took one of the containers from her, using his other to grasp her free hand in his.  After all that had happened recently, holding hands with a killer didn’t seem the least bit strange.

Chapter 3

They spent the daylight hours constantly on the move.  Occasionally, the two would stop and rest, spending no more than two hours in one spot – one hour for him to sleep, the other hour for her to sleep.

Buffy didn’t even flinch when Spike had stated that he'd take the first watch as they reached his first hideaway.  She’d just lain down on the cold floor – her back against the wall to guard against a sneak attack – Angel’s ashes clutched tightly in her hands as she’d drifted off to sleep.

Spike had to hand it to the slayer.  She had grit.  He was surprised she hadn’t protested when he’d told her that he’d be the one to stand guard first.  He was just waiting for her to start arguing with him.  Instead, she’d blithely done as he’d suggested and gone right to sleep.  If he wasn’t so worried about being a target of the Order, he just might be offended at her lack of fear in his presence.

He sat beside her and watched her as she slept.  He knew she was sleeping too, her deep breathing and slowed heart rate a clear indication of her slumber.  He marveled at all she’d endured, continued to endure, in her stint as a slayer.  The first time he’d seen her he’d been awed by her grace as she’d danced.  He was no less amazed now.  Even if she was the enemy.

Instead of being curled up in her nice, warm bed, she was sleeping in a dank alcove in the city’s tunnel system, a deadly vampire her temporary guardian.  And, she’d done it all with a minimum of fuss.

He inched his body closer towards her head, and lifted it so that he could slide his legs under her and provide her with some type of pillow.  Spike wasn’t sure why he did it, but the thought of seeing the slayer huddled on the cold, damp floor just didn’t sit well with him.  She was a predator, a killer of his kind…she didn’t deserve to be treated like a stray dog, seeking shelter in the least likely of places.

He reached down to tuck a stray lock of her sun-kissed hair behind her ear before moving it to rest on her shoulder.  His other arm cradled the container of Dru’s ashes.  In the end, he gave her thirty of his allotted minutes.  She’d seemed so exhausted, and his body could handle going for longer periods without sleep.

Buffy came awake, pulled from her restful sleep, as she felt her shoulder being shaken, her name…well, Spike’s name for her, being called softly.  Instead of feeling the cold ground beneath her head, she felt a hard thigh, warmed from her body heat.  She sat up somewhat startled, as she tried to figure out how her head had found its way into the vampire’s lap.  Her hand flew automatically to her neck, seeking proof that he’d done nothing to her.  Nope.  No bite mark.

She turned to ask him what…why, but he didn’t give her a chance.

“Wake me in thirty minutes,” he announced gruffly, stretching out in the empty space she’d just vacated.  Her body heat had warmed the ground where she once lay, and Spike snuggled deeper into the remaining heat before he drifted off to sleep.

Buffy watched the peroxide-blond vampire, confused.  Why would he offer himself as her pillow?  And, why did he give her thirty minutes of his time?  At least she assumed he had after his gruff announcement…they’d made a pact not to stay in one place longer than two hours.

Sighing in confusion, she leaned back against the wall and watched Spike sleep.  For all appearance, he looked dead.  Well, he was dead…or undead, or whatever.

Thirty minutes later, she leaned over and lightly caressed his face.  The hard planes of his cheekbones were too much of a temptation for her to resist.  She’d secretly thought he was gorgeous, even after she’d realized he was a vampire, a deadly killer.  She used the excuse of waking him to finally get a chance to touch him.

“Spike?  It’s time to go,” she whispered softly, her fingertips grazed lightly over his soft lips before pulling away.

He felt the butterfly caress along his face and lips and was just about to lean into it when her hand disappeared.  Spike pushed himself away from the cold floor and stood.  He reached a hand down to the slayer and was surprised when she slipped her hand in his and allowed him to pull her to her feet.

“Let’s go,” he announced, releasing her hand and moving back towards the tunnels.  He paused for a moment and sniffed the air.  Nothing.  Good.  He moved off into the tunnels towards their next two-hour reprieve. 

For the next ten hours, the two kept to the plan, neither saying much the entire time.  When dusk approached, they parted ways, carefully searching the shadows for any hidden threats.

~*~*~*~*~

Buffy went to the school first.  She needed to find Giles and get as much information as possible on the Order of Taraka.  She rushed up the steps leading into the school; the hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end, as if someone…or some thing was watching her.  She glanced back over her shoulder, searching the shadows for any sign, a hint of someone stalking her.  Seeing nothing, she turned and rushed inside.

Her boots rang out loudly in the deserted hallways, the noise dying away as she stopped before the double doors leading into the library.  They were all there: Giles, Willow, Xander…even Cordelia.  She also noticed Kendra was pacing back and forth as Giles spoke to the group. 

Buffy watched as the other slayer stopped; the two locked eyes as she glanced up to where Buffy stood gazing at the group. 

‘Ok, Buffy, you can do this,’  she murmured to herself. 

Using her empty hand, she pushed one of the doors inward and walked inside.

Willow was the first Scooby that noticed her.  She jumped to her feet, a yelled “Buffy” leaving her lips as she rushed across the room to embrace her friend.  After a quick hug, the redhead pulled away to look at her friend’s carefully blank face.

“Are you ok, Buffy?” she asked.  “Of course you’re not ok…you’re…”

Buffy tuned out Willow as she stuttered and stumbled through her apologetic monologue.  If she actually listened to her friend, the ice that had settled around her heart to deal with her pain would melt, and she’d be helpless to stop the tidal wave of emotions thinking about Angel’s death would bring.

“I’m fine, Will,” she answered, cutting short her friend’s attempt to console her.  She walked further into the room to escape the well-meaning girl.

“Buffy,” Xander began.

“It’s ok, Xander.  I’ll be fine.”  There was that word again.  Fine.  Such a short, small word to cover such a big lie.  Oh well.

Turning to her watcher she told him, “Giles, I need to know everything you can tell me about the Order.  Anything that might be of any possible help in dealing with these assassins.”

“That’s just it, Buffy.  What I told you earlier is all we really know about them.  They’re a deadly order of assassins dating back to King Solomon, and they won’t stop until their target is eliminated.”

It was what Buffy had figured, but she’d come here…hoping.  There was no help for it.  She was going to have to leave, handle this on her own.  She wouldn’t put her friends, her mom, in danger.  They wanted her, and by God, they were only going to get her.

“Ok.  I’m going to get home.  I haven’t been there all night and I need to shower and change.  We’ll meet back here in the morning and hit the books, see if there’s anything else we can possibly figure out about these assassins.”

“Buffy?  Do you think that’s wise?  Going home alone?” Giles questioned.

“Oh, I won’t be alone.  I’m going to take Kendra with me.”  A look passed between the two slayers, and Kendra gave her an imperceptible nod in agreement.

“Yes…very good then.  The rest of you go on home.  We’ll meet back here, say around nine?”  Since tomorrow was Saturday, they didn’t have to worry about classes.

“Good, then it’s settled.  I’ll see you all tomorrow,” Buffy told the gang with an even voice.  Without another word, she turned and left the room, Kendra following in her wake.

~*~*~*~*~

The two waited until they reached Buffy’s house before talking – both slayers were too busy scanning the shadows for signs of a possible ambush to engage in conversation.

“I’ll watch over dem,” Kendra told her, her accented voice the first to break the silence.

“Thanks!  I couldn’t leave knowing they weren’t going to be looked after.  And, they’ll help you too, though, that may take some getting used to.  I want you to stay here, keep an eye on my mom.  She doesn’t have a clue about any of this, and my disappearance is going to hit her hard. It'll be nice for her to have someone to mother.”

“Ok.”

“I’m just going to take a quick shower, get rid of some of this grime…then pack a bag and be gone.  I don’t think the Order would think I was crazy enough to come back here, so you should be pretty safe.  Wait until tomorrow…to let the others know…” her voice trailed off as emotion welled in her throat.  Tears filled her eyes at the thought of not seeing her friends or family again, but it was for the best.

She couldn't bear the thought of anyone getting hurt because someone was after her.  Better for them to seek her out alone.

Buffy ascended the stairs and took a quick shower, washing off the dirt, grime, and ash that had settled into her skin during the past twenty-four hours.  She wanted to take her time, not sure when she was going to get another chance to shower, but the urgency of the situation dictated otherwise.  With a resigned sigh, she turned off the hot water and stepped from the shower.

Grabbing a towel, she quickly dried herself off.  She bypassed the mirror; she didn’t want to see the haunted face of the girl that would stare back at her.  Instead, wrapped in a fluffy towel, she moved to her bedroom to pack a few things before she disappeared for good.

She quickly dressed in a pair of loose-fitting jeans, a tank top with a flannel to wear over it.   Grabbing the army-colored duffle bag from her closet, she threw several changes of clothes in it, a couple pairs of shoes, and as many weapons as she could carry but not have the weight hinder her.  She also slipped the container holding Angel’s ashes inside.  She couldn’t carry them with her forever; she’d need to figure out a spot for his final resting place…but for now, they would stay with her.

Buffy sat down on her bed and slipped her feet into her boots.  Rising, she looked around the room for the last time.  She took no personal mementos from her room, deciding to leave everything as it was for when…if…she made it back. 

With resolve on her face she left her room, practically racing down the stairs in her haste to be off, away from her home.  She stopped at the bottom of the stairs, glancing in to the living room to see Kendra looking around at the various decorations littering the room.

“Kendra…I…”

Kendra glanced up at the sound of her name.  A moment of understanding passed between the two girls.  Their life was destined to be short, even though they’d fight against their destiny with everything they had in them.

“Go’on, girl, ye bes be leevin,” Kendra replied. 

“Yes.”  Buffy nodded and moved to the door.  “Kendra?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks…be safe.”

“You too, girl, you too.”

Without another word, Buffy slipped out into the night.  She’d raided her mom’s emergency cash fund, and now had a couple hundred dollars stashed in her pockets.  Tomorrow, she’d go and withdraw the money from her college savings fund.  Hers was about to become a cash and carry existence.  She couldn’t afford to be tracked electronically by the Order. 

Her first stop would be to pay good ‘ole Willie the bartender a visit.  The lowlife should be able to put her in touch with someone that could forge an ID and passport for her.

~*~*~*~*~

“Owww…hell, slayer.  I’ll tell you what you want to know.  Just stop with the physical assault, alright?”

Buffy glared at Willie as she invaded his personal space, her hands fisted in the front of his shirt as she held him pinned up against the wall.

“Fake papers…where can I get some.  Good ones.”

“How much money you have?”

“What’s that matter?  You’re going to be footing the bill for them…or did you think the crap you pulled last night was all forgiven by me?”

“Right…ah…no, no.  Ah…Harry’ll be the one you want.  He’s the best in the business, have a few…er, you don’t need to know about that.”

“Harry.  Well, take me to this Harry.  And, don’t try anything.  After last night, I wouldn’t think twice about making you my first ‘human’ victim.”

Willie swallowed hard, nodding vigorously.

An hour later, Buffy became Anne Winters, a twenty-one year old from New York.  With a new identity in place, she made her way to the bus station.  She needed to get to Los Angeles so she could close out her account tomorrow.  After that, Buffy Summers was going to disappear for good.

Chapter 4

Spike watched as the slayer moved towards the bus ticket booth.  He wasn’t surprised to see that she was getting out of Sunnyhell; he couldn’t blame her.  For some strange reason, he just wanted to make sure she got off ok before he left town himself.  The two had bonded momentarily while trapped in the sewer tunnels, and he had to see for himself that she was going to be alright on her own. 

She had just about reached the ticket counter when a slight movement caught his eye.  His features shifted and he watched as a figure dressed in black – to blend with the night – slowly stalked her way towards the unsuspecting slayer.

He opened the door and stepped out of the Desoto.  He started forward, as if to intercept the assassin before he could reach his target, when he suddenly became aware of his own stalker.

“Slayer!  Look out!” he shouted before flattening himself upon the ground as a bust of flames soared over where his head was just moments ago.  He glanced up at the slayer to make sure she was all right before turning to confront the giant of a man that had managed to creep up behind him. 

He rolled to the side and barely avoided another deadly burst from the behemoth’s gun.  Scrambling to his feet, he dashed off towards the slayer, one) to lead the flame-wielding assassin away from his means of escape and, two) to make sure the black-clad assassin didn’t reach his target…evidently the slayer hadn’t heard his shout. 

~*~

“I’d like a ticket to LA, please,” Buffy announced to the ticket agent.

“That’ll be $65.00, miss.”

Buffy was just reaching into her pocket for some money when she felt the unmistakable feeling of a vampire closing on her.  She turned to confront her attacker and watched as a black-clad blur, slammed into another black-clad figure then rolled into the alley.

Spike?

“I’ll be right back,” she told the agent, and stepped out of line.  Her duffle slapped against her back as she jogged after the pair towards the alley.

She got there just in time to see Spike sink his fangs into her assailant, draining him quickly. 

Spike quickly finished off the assassin and released his body to let it fall to the ground.  His amber gaze pinned the slayer in place.

“There’s another one.  Coming this way.  The giant with the flamethrower.  We’ve got to get out of here.”

He strode quickly to the entrance of the alley, grabbed the stunned slayer’s hand and tugged her after him.  They made a circuitous path back to his Desoto, Spike’s yellowed gaze scanning all around for signs of any other assassin that may be pursuing the two of them.  Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as the giant made his way towards the alley and his fallen comrade. 

With a burst of speed, the two ran towards Spike’s car, hopping inside before the huge man noticed them and gave chase.  Spike started the engine, shifting the car into drive as he slammed his foot on the gas.  The powerful car lurched forward, the tires spinning uselessly on the pavement before finally catching. 

“Where to, slayer?” he asked once they were out of Sunnydale.

“Los Angeles.  I need to get some cash.”

“Right.”  He didn’t say another word, just drove in silence towards LA.  Wearily, Buffy leaned her head against the passenger side window as they hightailed it out of town.  Exhaustion was quickly taking hold, and it wasn’t long before she drifted off to sleep. 

Spike glanced at the slayer as her breathing and heart rate slowed.  Why had he rescued her?  He was evil.  What did he care if she got herself killed? 

He rationalized his actions by telling himself that they would stand a better chance of surviving if they stuck together.  Leaving it at that, Spike drove on into the night. 

~*~

It was about an hour before dawn when Spike pulled into LA.  They needed to find a place to hole up for the day, make some type of plans about what they were going to do.

“Slayer?”  He reached over and gently shook her shoulder.

“Hmmmm?”  Buffy came awake with a start as her vampire radar went haywire.  She sat up from the window then relaxed as her mind caught up with her body and she realized that Spike was the one kicking her slayer meter into overdrive.  

“Where are we?” she asked once her heart rate settled down somewhat.

“LA.  I’m jus' gonna go get us a room to crash in before the sun comes up.”

“Ok.” 

Just like that, she’d let him make the decision.  She’d placed her fate into the hands of an evil, bloodsucking vampire who had make it clear in no uncertain terms that the next goal in his unlife had been to kill her and add one more dead slayer to his belt.

She watched as he slipped from the car and made his way to the tiny motel window to obtain a room.  Leaning back against the headrest, she pondered the crazy upheaval her life had become.

It seemed like just moments had passed when suddenly Spike was back at the car and opening her door.  She grabbed her duffle from the backseat and followed him towards their room.  When he stopped in front of room thirteen, she cocked her brow at him.

“Wot?  I’m evil,” he smirked.  Buffy just laughed.  Exhausted as she was, she could see his perverse humor.  Only an evil vampire would pick an unlucky number for their room.  Shaking her head at his foolishness, she followed him inside.

Even though it was just one room, it still had two queen-sized beds.  Buffy walked to the one furthest from the door and dropped her bag on it.  Her feet kept moving towards the bathroom door.  Spike shut and locked the door, pulling the heavy drapes closed to block out the harmful rays that were going to be making an appearance soon.  He walked over to the empty bed and dropped his bag beside it.

He shrugged out of his duster, laying it over one of the chairs that circled the small table in their room.  His red button-down shirt and black t-shirt quickly followed the same path.  He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off his boots and socks before stretching out on top of the bed.  He wrapped his arms around a pillow as he rolled onto his stomach – he was asleep moments later.

Buffy came out of the bathroom and stopped dead in her tracks at the sight before her.  The Big Bad looked like a giant teddy bear stretched out on the bed.  ‘A very sexy giant teddy bear,’  she amended as she got a good look at his lean frame and six-pack abs.  Who knew what lay hidden beneath that bulky duster?  Probably a good thing for her slayer piece of mind. 

She opened her duffle and rummaged around for some sweats to slip on in place of her jeans.  Removing her flannel shirt, leaving just her tank top, she placed the garment aside and quickly shimmied out of her jeans and replaced them with the well-worn drawstring cotton sweatpants.  Buffy eyed her vacant bed before sliding her gaze back to the slumbering vampire. 

After leaving everyone and everything she held dear behind in Sunnydale, the last thing she wanted to do was be alone.  She’d just sleep on the edge of his bed; he’d never even know she was there.  She needed some type of contact, even if it was from a deadly vampire.  One who’d happened to save her…

And, what was up with that?

Shaking her head at the question she’d probably never get an answer to, Buffy slid into bed beside Spike, careful to keep close to the edge so as not to alert him to her presence.  Comforted by his nearness, she was soon fast asleep.

~*~*~*~*~

A glance at the bedside clock showed that she’d slept for another four hours.  It was just after nine and the banks had probably just opened.  She figured she’d get there first thing before anyone in Sunnydale was alerted to her disappearance and tried to guess her plans.

She attempted to sit up and slip out of bed unnoticed, but realized she couldn’t.  Sometime during the night – make that day – Spike had rolled over and curled up behind her.  One armed draped possessively around her hip as he spooned into her backside.  She lay there a moment frozen in shock, her mind trying to grasp the fact that Spike was snuggled up close to her…and sleeping.

‘Ok, Buffy, leave that one for later.  You need to get to the bank and get some money.’

Carefully, she rolled out of his grasp and slipped from the bed.  She breathed a sigh of relief when he did nothing more than roll over onto his stomach and snuggle deeper into the pillows.  She watched him for a moment before changing her sweats for the jeans she'd had on yesterday.  Grabbing her real identification and the room key, she slipped carefully from the motel room – mindful of the sun's deadly rays.

She walked to the nearest payphone and pulled the phonebook up by its metal cord, scanning the pages until she found the number to her bank and depositing the necessary change before dialing the main number.  When the operator came over the line, she explained that she was staying at a motel, gave the woman the address and asked to be directed to the nearest branch.  A smile came to her lips when the woman told her the nearest branch was just three blocks away from her.

It made her feet very happy.  There was no way in the world that Buffy was driving Spike’s car.

At the bank, she was directed to the branch’s manager when she explained that she wanted to close her account.  Since it was in her name, they couldn’t really deny her request.  They also tried to urge against cash, since it was a large sum of money, but Buffy was adamant.  Cash was untraceable.  And, she needed to be untraceable.  The manager hemmed and hawed for a bit, but in the end, he could do nothing but give in gracefully.

Thirty minutes later, Buffy made her way out of the bank, twenty five thousand dollars hidden inside the money belt strapped to her stomach, several hundred dollars were stuffed into her pocket to allow her to pick up a few items from the various shops in the strip mall she had spotted on her brief walk to the bank.

~*~*~*~*~

Buffy shifted her packages in one hand and used the other to open the motel door.  She barely cracked the door and peeked inside to make sure the sunlight wouldn’t hit Spike. Grateful for the westward position of their door – something he’d probably requested now that she thought about it – she slipped inside and closed the door softly behind her.  The plastic bags holding her purchases crinkled loudly in the otherwise quiet room as she set them on the drawer next to the TV.

The slayer glanced behind her to the vampire that still lay sleeping on the bed.  She hadn’t wanted to wake him, knowing that he needed his sleep if he were to take over guard duties later tonight. 

She rummaged quietly through one of the bags and located the box of hair dye she had purchased.  Buffy was going to die a quick death in this room, leaving Anne Winters – complete with a whole new look – in her place.  It was a good thing that the bartender had mentioned wearing a few wigs when she’d had her picture taken.  She’d even had the forger give her two different sets of identification; for now she would be Anne, she’d save the other identity for later.

Padding softly to the bathroom, she slipped inside and shut the door.   She opened the box and took out the hair dye that would give her a whole new look.  Her sun-kissed locks were going away; she was about to complement Spike’s punk look.  She’d even picked up a few “accessories” to complete the whole Goth persona she was trying to achieve.  She figured raven-colored hair was a complete turnaround from her normal look, and she hoped it would provide her with some leverage against the assassins bent on killing her.

Twenty minutes later, she cut on the hot water in the tub and pulled the lever to engage the shower.  Naked, she pushed the curtain aside and stepped under the shower head.  The black dye was rinsed from her hair, sliding in rivulets down her body to the drain below.  Buffy stayed under the shower for a while letting the pounding spray ease the tension in her aching muscles. 

When she felt the water start to lose its heat, she opened the small bar of soap the motel provided, grumbling to herself about forgetting to buy some shower gel.  She quickly lathered her body, rinsed, and then cut off the rapidly cooling water.  She reached for a towel, twirling it turban-style into her hair and grabbed another to wrap around her body.  She stepped out of the tub and wiped the condensation from the mirror. Grabbing the dye bottle, she dribbled a few small drops on her pinkie and rubbed them into her eyebrows.  She let the dye sit for a few minutes then rinsed it off with a washcloth. 

She lifted her hands and pulled the towel from her head, gazing at her reflection in the mirror.  Her lips parted in a silent “o” at her startling transformation.  She almost didn’t recognize herself…maybe her new look would  be enough to throw her attackers off as well. 

Pleased with the results, she stepped from the bathroom clad in only a towel.  Holding it in one hand, she used the other to grab fresh underwear out of her duffel as well as a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt.  She scampered back to the bathroom and quickly donned her clothes. 

It had been over an hour since she’d left the bank and she was starting to get antsy.  Something, some sixth sense was telling her to leave…and soon.

Buffy grabbed the new boots she had purchased out of the bag.  She quickly slipped the black combat boots on her feet and laced them.  She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and cringed.  She looked nothing like the cheery California girl she used to be.  Hazel eyes tinged with pain gazed back at her.  Lack of food and sleep, as well as the constant anxiety she had been feeling had made her face appear more pale than usual.  Combined with the dark hair and brows, as well as the equally dark shirt, Buffy looked like a completely different person. 

Her eyes searched out Spike’s in the mirror before realizing that he didn’t cast a reflection.  Glancing over her shoulder, she started when she realized that he was awake – and staring.  He was propped up on his elbow eyeing her transformation in the mirror.

Man, he was gorgeous with his bed head hair and bare chest!  His blue eyes were gazing into her as if he could see right through her.

Bad thoughts Buffy!  Focus.  Shaking herself mentally, she focused on her rising worry.

“I think we should get out of here, Spike.”

He cocked a brow at her. 

“Bit of a problem, that.  Daylight.  Vampire here.”

“I know, but I left the bank almost two hours ago.  The withdrawal I made is bound to draw someone’s notice.  I say we put as much distance between here and L.A. as possible.”

Spike sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

“You’re serious.”  It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.  Something’s telling me to get the hell outta dodge, and I’m not going to ignore it.  You with me?”

“Do I have time for a shower?”

“Yeah.  You shower.  I’ll get everything packed up and loaded in the car.”

She turned to begin packing up their meager belongings as Spike made his way to the bathroom.  Just before he stepped inside, he stopped.

“Slayer?”

She stopped what she was doing to look up at him.  Spike eyes roamed appreciatively over her frame from head to toe.

“Nice look.”

Then he dipped inside the bathroom and shut the door.

Buffy’s eyes remained fixed on the spot where he once stood.  Her body was still tingling from the heated look he had given her after his gaze had raked over her.  Her mouth gaped open in astonishment.  Had that been desire that had lit his eyes?

Focusing once more on her task, she made quick work of packing their belongings. 

She had just finished her last load to the car when she heard the water cut off.  When Spike stepped out of the bathroom clad only in a towel, Buffy tried desperately to look anywhere but at his hard, bare chest.  Frantically, she set about distracting herself from watching the tiny water droplets as they rolled down his alabaster skin towards the knot that held his towel in place. 

Seeing nothing else she could grab to make herself busy, she mumbled a quick, “I’m gonna grab some food,” and raced out the door, careful not to let any sunlight in the room.

Spike, who had been using a towel on his wet hair to dry it off, couldn’t see the slayer’s agitation.  He could; however, detect a marked increase in her heart rate.  And, as he heard the front door slam, he lowered the towel from his head, a slight smirk on his features.

‘This is gonna be interesting,’  he thought as he made quick work of getting dressed.  He eyed the clothes laid out on the bed, and his smile grew wide as a thought suddenly occurred to him.  He just wished he’d seen the look on the slayer’s face when she didn’t come across any soddin' underwear in his bag.

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