Chapter 6

Stealing a car was never an easy thing. Doing it in broad daylight was damn near impossible. Buffy knew she needed to find something that would provide decent cover for Spike during the day, but still be manageable for her to drive. Campers and RV’s were out. She’d settle for a pickup truck, but only if it had a bedcover.

Driving Spike’s Desoto with its blackened out windows was sure to draw attention, especially driving it through suburban Phoenix. She needed to find a car, and damn soon.

As she drove around a corner, it seemed as if the fates were suddenly smiling down on her. She pulled over and watched as a woman got out of her idling SUV parked at the curb to dart back inside her house.

It was now or never.

Leaving the Desoto running, Buffy slipped out of the driver’s seat and raced to the woman’s SUV. Two seconds later, she calmly slipped behind the wheel and drove the car a few blocks over, mindful to take the keys with her as she darted back to Spike and the Desoto.

Buffy was on the interstate inside fifteen minutes and she even remembered to swap out the license plates with those she’d lifted from another vehicle. She couldn’t help grinning at the thought of her being considered a criminal. Spike was sure to have a field day with her tumble from her righteous perch. She sobered suddenly as her thoughts turned to the vampire; she just prayed he didn’t kill her when he found out she’d ditched his car.

In Tucson, Arizona, she finally broke down and stopped. She would have driven further, tried to put more distance between them and their last known location, but was deeply worried about Spike. She was going to need him to help find the Order; plus, she’d come to rely on his presence over the last couple of days.

The motel she chose looked like it was falling down around the owner’s ears: the sign had several letters missing from the name, the building was in desperate need of a paint job. It was just the place Buffy was looking for. A perfect place to get lost.

She snagged the key that had been slammed down on the countertop by the clerk after she filled out the registration form with bogus information; she paid cash for the room. She muttered what passed for an acknowledgment as the man hollered out, “Checkout’s at noon!” as she stepped out of the office. Her mind was already on the vampire.

Buffy brought all their belongings in the room first before carefully retrieving Spike from the front seat. As she hoisted him onto her shoulder, she heard him let out a muffled groan and was torn between going slow and prolonging his agony, or hurrying and getting it over with. In the end, she just hurried.

She eased Spike down onto the single queen-sized bed. When she got a look at the comforter wrapped around his body, she let out a gasp. The thing was covered in blood. Suddenly anxious, her hands worked frantically to uncoil Spike, and she could feel tears well up in her eyes once the extent of his injuries was exposed.

His face was unusually pale, as if all of his blood had seeped out of him, leaving behind a washed-out husk. His face, arms, and torso still bore the signs of the holy water he’d been sprayed with; the red angry welts stood out in stark contrast to his pale skin. He lay deathly still on the bed and she was at a loss as to what to do.

Buffy knew he needed blood to heal but couldn’t see herself scouring about for his next meal – no matter how desperate things were. She hadn’t said a word when he left last night, had turned a blind eye to what he was about to do. However, actively seeking a body for him to drain went against her moral code.

Climbing up onto the bed, she tried to wake him up.

“Spike? Spike? Wake up!” she practically yelled as she shook him.

Nothing.

“Come on, Spike. Wake up, dammit! You can’t die on me… I need your help!” Tears gathered and eventually fell, grief-stricken over his continued unresponsiveness. “If you don’t help me— Dammit, Spike! I can’t do this on my own… Wake up!” Her voice rose frantically; she was shaking him so hard yet he wasn’t budging, and she feared that he was dead. That she was going to have to go it alone.

“Spike!”

Spike’s eyes flew open, and he snarled as his demon burst forth. Then he attacked.

Bolting upright, one hand instinctively grasped the Slayer’s hair and pulled her head to the side. The other yanked her black t-shirt out of his way, exposing her neck and the vessels beating away so close to the surface… his fangs found their mark unerringly.

The powerful blood hit his tongue and Spike purred his pleasure. He took several hard pulls as he thrust up against her. His dick hardened, both from the friction and the taste of her in his mouth. It didn’t help matters that she was squirming above him, her fingers in his hair, clenching and unclenching – unsure what to do.

The sudden burst of pheromones was nearly his undoing...

“Spike,” Buffy whimpered, and tried to clamber closer to his body. His fangs had stung, fiercely so, when they first pierced her flesh. But as he pulled her blood into his mouth, she could feel it deep within her core. A steady throbbing that increased the more he drank. It was sensuous. Wicked. And, oh God! It felt so good.

Then her body started to relax as the loss of blood began to get to her. Arms that had been holding Spike close, loosened and eventually lay limp at her side. Her head lolled to the side, better exposing her throat; her eyes rolled back just before her eyes closed and she fell into unconsciousness.

Through the haze of his bloodlust and desire, Spike realized that the Slayer had gone slack in his arms. He abruptly released her neck, his human mask returning as his gaze raked over her features.

“Slayer?” he called softly as he lifted her up against his chest. “Pet? Are you ok?”

One hand lifted to smooth her dark hair back from her face. Her eyelids fluttered, and Spike found himself heaving a sigh of relief. He’d not taken too much.

“Come on, luv. Wake up.”

Her eyes finally opened and blue eyes locked with hazel.

“All better?” she asked with a slur in her voice, the recent blood loss weighing her limbs down so that she started to sag against him. The slight smile that played about her lips gave her a drunk-like appearance.

“Uh huh… all better,” he grinned back.

“Good,” she whispered before she fell forward onto his chest and sleep overcame her.

Spike held the Slayer close as he leaned back against the pillows. His feelings for the slip of a girl he held in his arms had changed over the last couple of days. No longer did he want to kill her outright. They’d become reluctant allies, bound together by mutual tragedy and a common enemy. Destined to travel together to fight for their survival.

As he stroked her hair and listened to the steady beat of her heart, Spike vowed silently that nothing would ever take her from him.

~*~*~*~*~

Spike woke first, the Slayer’s body still sprawled out on top of him. The gaping hole in his torso had closed over, thanks to the swift healing properties of her potent blood. His eyes softened as he watched her sleeping so peacefully. Her warm breath skated over his bare chest as she exhaled; the soft currents wafted over his skin and skimmed across his bare nipple, causing it to harden in response. He muffled a groan as his cock was quick to respond, swelling uncomfortably within the tight confines of his jeans.

She stirred in his arms, unknowingly rubbing against his aching cock and Spike slowly counted to ten, praying for a bit of divine intervention. Ironic, though it was.

“Hi,” she whispered as she lifted her head from his chest; her voice was slightly husky, not yet completely recovered from the blood Spike had consumed.

“Hey there yourself, pet,” he murmured back. “How do you feel?”

“Tired… but I’ll be ok. How ‘bout you? All healed up?” As she asked this, her eyes drifted down to the scar decorating his chest where the stake had once pierced his flesh. Her hand ran over the mark, astonished at how quickly he’d healed.

“Wow! You heal almost faster than I do,” she murmured amazed.

Spike’s eyes closed as her fingers continued to roam over his chest, scalding him with their heat. ‘Bloody chit doesn’t even know what she’s doing to me.’ He needed to distract her, had to get his mind back on developing a plan of action. But her hands… oh God, her hands were driving him crazy.

Buffy couldn’t look away from Spike’s chest as her hands roved over taut flesh. She was amazed at the coolness of his flesh beneath her palms, in awe at the smoothness of his pale skin as her fingers continued to caress him. His duster had done a good job of concealing a body that was damn near perfect. His lean frame was comprised of sleek muscle and Buffy couldn’t seem to take her eyes – or hands, for that matter – away from it.

Spike dared not move as the Slayer’s hands continued their gentle exploration. When they started a downward path, he couldn’t prevent the growl that erupted from the back of his throat. Her hand stilled at the sound, and her head lifted to gaze at his face.

Buffy froze and started to remove her hand, unsure as to why Spike was suddenly growling at her, but he moved like lightning and gripped her wrists in his hand, holding them in place on his stomach.

“I… I,” she stammered.

“No… don’t stop,” he whispered and slowly released his hold on her wrists.

“I… I don’t know what to do…” her voice trailed off in embarrassment.

Buffy remained transfixed as Spike reached up and tucked a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. His fingers trailed down along her jaw, causing her to gasp in surprise at his gentleness. She leaned into the caress, and moments later, felt his other hand cup the other side of her jaw. He coaxed her head down toward his and she allowed him to do it, knowing that he was going to kiss her.

He brushed his lips back and forth across her slightly parted lips, and Buffy was shocked at how soft they were. Over and over it went, until she was sure she was going to die from frustration if he didn’t take things further. As if reading her thoughts, his tongue was suddenly there, tiny little flicks here and there, then tracing the contours of her lips. A groan of pleasure sounded in her ears, hoarse and needy, and Buffy realized that it was her. She should make him stop, was her vague thought. And she would have, if he had been hurried in his quest to taste her. But she was helpless to do nothing but submit to his gentle, but thorough, exploration of her mouth. To lean into him and beg for more. Finally his mouth settled over hers, and she practically screamed with delight as his tongued delved within the recess of her mouth to lightly duel with hers.

Her body shuddered above his and Buffy could do nothing but follow along as he kissed her with almost lazy strokes of his tongue. He seemed in no hurry either, content to hold her head within his hands as his tongue worked its delicious magic. Endless minutes of torture as she writhed above him. Wanting... needing... something. More. She wanted more. Now. And oh god, his mouth—

She whimpered as Spike withdrew, then moaned outright as he licked and nibbled at her skin, making a circuitous route along her throat to her ear. Blunt teeth closed over the lobe and worried the flesh, teasing the stud in her ear. Another shudder went through her; she may have whispered Spike’s name. Or please.

Just when Buffy thought she couldn’t stand it any longer, Spike moved away from her ear, back down her neck, treating her to a repeat of the delicious torment he’d given her before. Somehow she ended up on her back. When Spike’s mouth closed around the bite marks he’d left and his tongue laved at the barely closed-over holes, she could have sworn she saw stars – and not from pain.

No, it was pleasure, unlike anything she’d ever imagined.

Over and over, his tongue bathed her neck. Until Buffy thought she’d go mad with the pleasure he was giving her. Her body bucked and writhed; her hands tore at his hair, pressing him closer, pulling him back... unsure what, exactly, she wanted him to do.

“Spike...”

Spike wanted nothing more than to rip the shirt from the Slayer’s body, to lick and taste every inch of her flesh hidden from his gaze. But he wanted this, their first time together, to be special. Comfort and solace, rather than a hard emotionless fuck. He forced himself to sit back on his heels, taking deep, calming breaths he no longer needed. If nothing else, it gave him a moment to get his demon under control, and to ascertain that this was what the Slayer wanted.

When she continued to stare at him, lust and need making her eyes more green than hazel, Spike pulled her to a seated position and lifted her shirt over her head and tossed it aside. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and he got a glimpse of perfectly formed breasts, pointed nipples, and dusky areolas before she crossed her arms over her chest and covered herself.

“Let me look at you," he murmured, hands closing over her wrists to pull her arms away from her body. Surprisingly, she offered no resistance to his softly spoken plea, though her face flamed a becoming shade of red. “Beautiful...”

She smiled then. The first he’d ever seen. It transformed her features, banishing the pain and heartache that had been a constant since that night.

Their clothes fell away beneath eager hands and fumbling touches until the two were naked and stretched out on top of the bed. Hands ran almost lovingly over bare flesh, cataloging strengths and weaknesses, sleek muscles and soft, yielding curves. There was a moment of pain when Spike finally took her, but it was gone in an instant. What came after more than made up for it to Buffy’s way of thinking.

Then she wasn’t thinking at all... only feeling. Her mind and body focused solely on the creature driving her higher and higher. To some place she’d never been but craved desperately. Her climax caught her unawares. The fangs in her throat made it go on and on, until she was faint from the intensity.

Spike’s muffled growl signaled his own release. His heavy weight settled on top of her, pushing her deeper into the mattress, covering her from head to toe. It felt good, so much so, that when he tried to move off and settle at her side, her arms tightened around his back and held him close.

They stayed like that for endless minutes. Until their bodies recovered enough and Buffy began to feel the slight chill in the room. She sighed and reluctantly relaxed her grip. Frowning when Spike pulled free and flopped onto his back beside her.

Buffy went willingly when Spike pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. Somehow he managed to get the covers up around them. They snuggled together for a time, neither of them saying a word, both hesitant to break the peaceful silence.

An hour passed, and then another.

Finally, Spike spoke.

“Slayer?” he called softly in the dark.

“Hmmmm?” she mumbled, the sound more of a hum in her throat than an actual word that left her lips. She was so relaxed that she didn’t even object to the name he had called her. His hands gliding along her skin weren’t helping.

“We should think about getting out of here. We need to stay on the move so the Order can’t track us. How long have we been here anyway? I was a little out of it when I was dragged in here.”

“What time is it?” she asked as she tried to push off from his chest and rise.

Spike felt her sit up as she tried to see over him to the clock on the bedside table behind him. He turned to the side and read the digital display to her.

“Ten o’clock.” Apparently, he’d slept longer than normal as his body repaired itself from its last attack.

“Oh, ok. Look, uh… Spike…I gotta tell you something,” she began as she crossed her legs and clutched the cover to her chest.

‘That doesn’t sound good,’ he thought. He quirked his brow at her, waiting.

“Well… you see… uh… I figured out why the Order was able to track us so quickly. And… uh… well…”

“It can’t be as bad as all that, Slayer. Spit it out already.”

“I ditched the Desoto.”

Bloody hell!

The silence was deafening and she waited for him to explode. Instinctively, she cringed, ready for him to blast her with “bloody hell’s” and “sod it all’s.”

Spike sighed. The Slayer was right. His car had stuck out like a sore thumb, providing an easy target for the Order to track.

“So, tell me, Slayer… how in the bloody hell did we get here?”

“I stole a car.”

“You nicked a car?!” he exclaimed, incredulous.

Buffy nodded, blushing slightly.

“I don’t believe it! The bloody Slayer nicked a car!” A wide grin split his face and he looked up at the girl staring down at him. She gave him a tentative smile in return.

“What kind of car? How did you get it? Spill, girl!”

“Well, it was just parked at the curb. The woman left it running and went inside, so I jumped out and drove it around the block. Then, I ran back to the Desoto… easy. We’re now the proud owner of an SUV. I even stole a new set of license plates to put on it.”

Spike continued to stare at the girl, feeling somewhat foolish because he felt so proud of her recent criminal activities.

“Bloody marvelous,” he murmured as he sat up in bed. His hand slipped around the back of her neck, and he hauled her close for a lip-bruising kiss. He felt her melt into him, her hands coming up to rest against his chest.

As quick as it began, it was over. Spike released her mouth, lifting his head to gaze down at her upturned face.

“Come on, pet. Let’s get dressed and get outta here. We don’t want a repeat performance of earlier today.”

Buffy’s eyes fluttered open. Silently, she nodded at him. She stood up, allowing the cover to fall back to the bed as she quickly scooped up the clothes she’d been wearing earlier and high-tailed it to the bathroom.

Spike watched her disappear from sight. He stood and dressed, gathering their things together while the Slayer got dressed. A few minutes later, they were back in their newly acquired vehicle and driving off into the darkness.

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