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 hadn’t offered any protest when Spike stated that he would take the first watch upon reaching his first hideaway. She’d just lain down on the cold floor – her back against the wall to guard against a sneak attack – held Angel’s ashes clutched tightly in her hands and closed her eyes, almost instantly asleep.

Spike had to hand it to the Slayer. She had grit. He was surprised she hadn’t balked when he’d told her that he’d be the first one to stand guard. He’d been prepared for her argument. 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 the Slayer. He’d been captivated by her from the first moment he’d laid eyes on her and 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 sewer system, a deadly vampire her temporary guardian. And she’d done it all with a minimum of fuss.

Spike 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. He wasn’t sure why he did it, but the thought of seeing the girl huddled on the cold, damp floor just didn’t sit well with him. She was a predator, a killer of his kind… the Slayer. 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 then rested his hand 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, when 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 cheek, she felt a hard thigh, warmed from her body heat. She sat up somewhat startled, trying to figure out how her head had found its way into the vampire’s lap – all without her waking. 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 and maybe 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 Spike, 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 placed 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 once 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 the other slayer stop suddenly; the two locked eyes when 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, Willow pulled away to look at her friend’s carefully blank face.

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

“I’m sorry, 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.

“Okay. 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.”

“Very well.”

“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 the Order to seek her out alone.

Buffy ascended the staircase 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 not wanting 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 placed 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. For now, though, they would stay with her.

Buffy sat down on her bed and laced up 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 Willy 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 Willy as she invaded his personal space, her hands fisted in the front of his shirt and 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 killing you.”

Willy 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. 

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