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Thank you to spikeskat and Rachel for the beta!!
Chapter 2
In under ten minutes, Buffy had her meager belongings thrown together and tossed in the backseat of the beat-up Nissan, the latest in a seemingly endless cycle of used cars that she drove for a short time before moving on to the next one. Learning to drive wasn't a skill she'd have ever thought to master in her other life, but necessity was a powerful motivational tool, and the slayer had quickly overcome whatever trepidation she felt at being behind the wheel of a car. A fierce desire to put as much distance between herself and the ones that had done her harm provided added incentive to learn fast. Having wheels made her less of a target.

And she’d do whatever it would take to make herself less of a target.

Her clothing these days came from second-hand stores or the local Walmart of whichever town she happened to be in. Gone were the short skirts and skimpy tops; her attire these days was utilitarian and plain. Her hair had been cut chin length and fell in an uneven bob to frame her face. Her blonde locks were currently dyed an unflatteringly dark brown that made her blend in. She couldn't remember the last time makeup had touched her face. That girlie girl she had used to be belonged to another time, had lived in another world.

And had no business in this one.

Turning the key in the ignition, the car gave one loud sputter before the engine turned over, noisy and obtrusive in the early morning hour. Reaching over to the passenger seat, she grabbed a scrunchie and twisted her hair into an unflattering bun at the nape of her neck, not bothering to check the results in the mirror.

Then she was off. On to the next town, to hole up in another out of the way no-tell motel.

Always running.


Buffy had driven for a solid ten hours, putting as much distance as possible between herself and the last place she had slept; stopping once for gas and for much needed coffee with an Egg McMuffin at McDonalds. Her prenatal diet didn't concern her. To dwell on whether the “Thing” – as she’d termed it - in her belly was getting proper nourishment would mean acknowledging that it was truly a part of her. That it meant something.

That it was her baby.

And that was something she just couldn't allow herself to acknowledge. Ever. Something deep within her was guiding her actions, and Buffy gave herself over to it, knowing sub-consciously that it was her slayer-ness taking over. Thus far, it had kept her alive, and that was good enough.

An hour before dusk found her in another run-down town, just north of the Mexican border. Buffy was glad to stop, a headache brewing behind her left eye, the constant looking in her rearview mirror and being ever on alert taking its toll.

After paying cash and securing a room for the night, Buffy wearily unlocked the door to her room, barely giving the sparse furnishings a cursory glance as she walked in and dumped her bag on the bed. It was no better or worse than anything she had stayed in over the last several months, and at least this one had an air of cleanliness in its favor.

She eyed the bed longingly, wanting nothing more than to fall onto its welcoming surface and rest her weary body, but right now, her body needed fuel. Buffy had learned the hard way that towns such as these tended to shut down at an early hour.

 'Just a few moments,' she told herself, unable to resist curling up on the bed. Her eyelids drifted shut as she fell quickly into slumber.

A scream stuck in her throat, Buffy jerked awake. There was always that profound relief in realizing it was just a dream, but with it would come the complete wrongness – the forced degradation - of what had been done to her. Then anger would take hold and Buffy found that emotion to be the most calming. It gave her strength, gave her clarity. Gave her the courage to go on, to resist the urge to pick up the phone and call her mom. And Giles. And her friends. Angel.

God, she missed them.

Yet she knew to give into that foolish impulse would be signing a warrant for recapture. And she highly doubted she'd be allowed to walk out of there once whatever was inside her had been born.

No, this was the only way.

Buffy looked at the antiquated alarm clock and groaned, her window of opportunity for sustenance had already come and gone while she had been asleep. She swung her legs around and jerked to her feet, refusing to let her pregnancy impact her mobility.

Taking the time for a quick shower, she eagerly washed the stench of travel off her body and was out the door in under fifteen minutes. Her damp hair was piled messily in a scrunchie again and the large, oversize army jacket she wore masked the obvious signs of her pregnancy.

As predicated, the restaurants had long since closed, leaving only the seedy bars open for what existed of the town’s nightlife. With a heavy sigh, Buffy resigned herself to suffer that scene. Drunken red-necks had not proven to be the most astute of males, often times not wanting to take a polite no for an answer. Or a firm one.

 Buffy opted to walk to her destination, not wishing to draw attention to her unfamiliar car. Far better for her to spend the extra few minutes on her feet than have to worry about one of the town’s inhabitants seeing her vehicle and the lone female driving it, and inadvertently giving her pursuers an advantage. And there was no doubt in her mind that she was being tracked. Hunted.

No, walking was definitely safer.

The night was warm, a full moon illuminating the way, and Buffy wished she could shed the bulky jacket. But, anonymity was the key. And while her rounded belly was most definitely showing, it was still easily hidden beneath her bulky clothes.

Three blocks later and she’d arrived. Bud's Place. Buffy's eyes instinctively rolled, a small hint of the girl she used to be almost peeking through before the loud rumbling of her stomach reminded her why she was there.

Food. Now.

Throwing the heavy wooden door open, she was assaulted by a cloud of smoke and loud country music, mentally cringing at both. For a second, she considered leaving and scrounging around in her car again for a missed snack, but her insistent hunger prevailed.

Feeling as if all eyes were suddenly upon her, Buffy hunched her shoulders and strode forward, trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible. She reached the bar and slid into a seat, giving the bartender a thin smile of greeting as he appeared in front of her.

"Y'all serve food, right?" she asked, adopting a southern accent. Anything to mask her previous Valley Girl inflections.

A menu was thrust into her welcoming hands and it took Buffy exactly a minute to decide before ordering a hamburger and fries. With a side of ranch.

That was new, the ranch. She had tried to ignore it, recognizing it as a craving and not wanting anything to do with it, but thus far had been unsuccessful.


The Thing was kicking again with relish, and a stab of irritation went through her at this ever present reminder. She wondered, not for the first time, if she would have a normal gestation period, or if she would be forced to carry it longer than usual.

Because that would totally suck.

Her musing was interrupted when she saw the bartender give her order to one of the hard-looking, overly made-up cocktail waitresses that came up to the wooden slab to fill a drink order. Watching the woman walk away, her tray loaded down with bottles of beers, Buffy idly wondered if that was going to be her. Used up and soured, looking years older than her true age.

And came to the sudden realization that she didn't really care.

"Hey there, l'il darlin'."

Her face expressionless, Buffy glanced at the man who had addressed her, barely able to curtail her lip from curling up in disgust as his foul body odor assaulted her nostrils, even through the thick cover of smoke.

She turned back to stare at nothing, effectively dismissing him. God she hated bars.

One meaty hand clamped on her wrist. "I'm talking to you."

"Leave her be, Jed." The bartender had materialized in front of her again.

With a surly grunt, Jed stomped back to the pool table he'd been losing at all evening.

"Thanks." Buffy's voice was quiet, yet sincere.

"Don't mention it. Your food should be up shortly." With a slight nod, he moved to attend to the others at the opposite end of the bar.

Letting out a pent up sigh of agitation, Buffy refrained from glancing around, keeping her eyes directed in front of her, her senses alert. It hadn't taken long to discover that even non-deliberate eye contact in places such as these was so not of the good. She cursed under her breath when she felt a familiar zap crawl up the nape of her neck.

Slaying was something she'd had to do with more stealthiness than usual, not wanting any reports of some slip of a girl killing baddies to get out. That's why she usually kept to the typical cemeteries for her nocturnal activities, finding an audience less likely to be present.

It didn't mean that it was impossible to take them out if she came across them.

Just as her stomach was about to stand up and revolt with hunger, a huge plate was set down in front of her and Buffy flashed a genuine smile of gratitude at the waitress. She made quick work of the burger, dipping it into the ranch dressing with each bite.
********
From a dark corner, Spike kept his eye on the girl who had immediately piqued his interest from the moment she'd stepped foot inside the bar. After watching her literally inhale a tremendous amount of food, something began pricking at the edge of his consciousness. He knew her.

When she smiled once more at the waitress, recognition struck hard, causing a sharp intake of unnecessary breath. Her appearance was different, but it was her.

The Slayer.

Well now. The night just got a wee bit more interesting, after all.

*****
tbc
a/n-Oooh! It's Spike! It's Spike! *giggles* Please review and let me know what you think of this one, It really isn't my usual type of fic.





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