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 wanted to make sure she got off okay 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 almost 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, he was sure – slowly stalked towards the unsuspecting Slayer.

Spike opened the door and stepped out of the Desoto, starting forward, as if to intercept the assassin. Before he’d taken a handful of steps, he suddenly became aware of his own stalker.

“Slayer! Look out!” he shouted before flattening himself upon the ground as a burst of flames soared over where his head was just moments ago. He spared a quick glance 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. 

Another hiss of gas and a second spray was close to singeing his duster. Only preternatural reflexes managed to save him from the deadly flames.

Scrambling to his feet, Spike dashed off towards the Slayer, first, to lead the flame-wielding assassin away from his means of escape and, second, to make sure the second assassin didn’t reach his target.

Evidently the Slayer hadn’t heard his shout. 

~*~*~*~*~

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

“That’ll be $65.00, miss.”

Buffy was just reaching into her pocket for her stash of cash when she felt the hairs on the nape of her neck stand on end; a vampire closing on her... and fast. She turned, her body easily sinking into a defensive pose, ready to confront her attacker and could only gape in amazement as a black-clad blur slammed into another figure with equally dark clothing on. The two disappeared into the alley.

Spike?

“I’ll be right back,” she told the agent, and stepped away from the window. Her duffle slapped against her back as she jogged after the pair.

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

Spike quickly finished off the assassin and released her body to let it fall to the ground. His 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, grateful that she put up no fuss. They made a circuitous path back to his Desoto, Spike’s yellowed gaze scanning all around for signs of any other assassins that may be pursuing the two of them. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the giant make 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, then 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 crossed the city limits.

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

“Right.” He didn’t say another word, just drove in silence towards their destination.

Buffy sighed and leaned her head against the passenger side window as they left Sunnydale far behind. 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. He frowned, wondering why in the world he’d bothered to rescue her. He was a demon, evil, for chrissakes. What did he care if she got herself killed? Another one would be along soon enough to take her place.

Rather than search for some hidden meaning to his actions, he rationalized then by telling himself that they would stand a better chance of surviving if they stuck together. A firm decisive nod. Yep, better the two of them together seeing to each other’s back.

~*~*~*~*~

It was close to sunup when Spike pulled into the city, having taken a circuitous route to throw off anyone trying to follow them. They needed to find a place to crash for the day, make some type of plans about what they were going to do. With that in mind, Spike drove the streets looking for a cheap motel.

“Slayer?” He reached over and gently shook her shoulder once he found what he was looking for and pulled into a parking space.

“Hmmmm--!” Buffy came awake with a start as her vampire radar went haywire. She sat up from the window then relaxed, her mind finally catching up with her body, realizing that Spike was the one kicking her slayer meter into overdrive.

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

“L.A., like you said. 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 glass window to obtain a room. Leaning back against the headrest, she pondered the crazy upheaval her life had become.

It seemed like only a few moments had passed before 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 laughed. Exhausted as she was, she could see his perverse humor. Only an evil vampire would pick such an unlucky number for their room. Shaking her head at his foolishness, she followed him inside.

Even though it was just the 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. She needed a moment alone, perhaps throw some water on her face.

Spike shut and locked the entry door, pulling the heavy drapes closed to block out the harmful rays that were going to be making an appearance all too soon. He walked over to the empty bed and dropped his bag beside it, then turned and 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. His boots and socks weren’t far behind, then he was stretched out on top of the bed.

He was asleep moments later.

Buffy came out of the bathroom and stopped dead in her tracks at the sight before her. Spike was curled on his side, his arms wrapped around a pillow, fast asleep. ‘Whoa!’ Who knew what lay hidden beneath that bulky duster? Probably a good thing for her slayer peace of mind. 

She opened her duffle and rummaged around for some sweats to wear in place of her jeans. A few minutes later, she was clad in just her tank top and sweats. She eyed her vacant bed, then slid 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 was asleep already and would never even know she was there.

She needed some type of contact, even if it was from a deadly vampire. One who had just happened to have saved 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. Oddly 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 recently 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 ease 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 against 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 tried not to wake Spike as she got out of bed and 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 let herself out of the motel room – mindful of the door.

Buffy 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 one was just three blocks away from her.

It made her feet very happy.

There was no way in the world that she 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 so that she could 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 dresser next to the TV, and she 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 Summers 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 stepped inside and shut the door. Stood there a moment before opening the box to take 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 black 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 turned 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 spray. 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. Through the shower curtain, her hands groped blindly for a towel, using it to twist turban-style into her hair then grabbed another to wrap around her body. 

The mirror was fogged over, and she used a hand to wipe it down, then unwound the towel in her hair. Her lips parted in a silent “o” at her startling transformation. She almost didn’t recognize herself and she peered closer to get a better look. Took a moment to add some hair dye to her eyebrows. 

Pleased with the final results after rinsing the dye from her brows, 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… like now.

Going with that thought, she grabbed the new boots she had purchased and pulled them on. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she bent over to tie the laces 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 paler than usual. Combined with the black hair and brows, as well as the equally dark shirt, she 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 own as if he could see right through her.

Bad thoughts, Buffy! Focus.

Shaking herself mentally, she concentrated on her rising trepidation.

“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 traveled the length of her body. 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 turn 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 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 and 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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