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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you so much for the warm response to this fic. It's pretty much the first thing I've thrown out into the fanfic world and I wasn't sure people would jump on board for such a strange Spuffy concept. As long as you all read and review, I'll continue to update this story. Thanks again!! =D

Also, if anyone should feel compelled to make a nice little Spuffy banner for this fic, just for the sake of me having something to actually show in that little space under "image:", I would be so very pleased and grateful. =P
CHAPTER 2

Spike paced the couple of metres to the ledge, held his gun high above his head and fired it into the sky. As the police watched helplessly below, he yelled out “next one’s for the girl!”

He grabbed Buffy’s arm to lead her around the other side of the rooftop, but she snatched it back defiantly.

“Ow! I don’t need to be led anywhere, I’m not vision impaired, you idiot!”

“Right. Sorry.”

Around the corner of the rooftop, over the edge and a metre or so lower, was a diagonal sheet of metal, housing a smaller part of the building, with one less floor. Spike helped Buffy over, carefully lowering her onto the unsteady surface, before climbing over himself. From there they climbed down onto the balcony of the building behind the bank. They were then only about three metres up from the pavement below.

Spike surveyed the height they were at, trying to calculate exactly how far down it was. “So, looks like we’re gonna jump, yeah. S’not that far.”

“Pffft, I don’t think so, buddy,” Buffy said, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

Spike sighed, rolling his eyes impatiently. “So let me get this straight, I just stopped you from jumpin’ off a building and now that I ask you to jump off a building, you refuse.”

“That was different! Before I was definitely gonna die. Now I’ll probably just… break my neck or my legs and end up as a quadriplegic or something!”

“And what if we make it? Geez, are you always this bloody negative? No wonder you want to kill yourself!”

“Hey, I-”

“Listen to me,” Spike cut her off. “We can make this. Easily. All you gotta do is trust me. Would I jump if I thought there was anyway I’d end up crippled? No. S’not that far down, let’s do it, yeah?”

Buffy sighed, massaging her temples. Was it too soon too be hung-over? “Ok, whatever. Let’s just go.”

“Right.” Spike took her hand. “On the count of three. One. Two. Three!”

They flew over the edge, landing roughly on the sidewalk. Spike brushed himself off and turned to Buffy. “You alright, luv?”

Buffy pulled away from his helping hand, adjusting her suit indignantly. “Fine. And don’t call me ‘luv’,” she added.

At that moment, the sounds of several policemen on foot could be heard coming their way, their heavy boots thudding along the pavement.

“This way,” Spike urged, making a run for the undercover parking lot. “We’ll just borrow a car for a bit,” he added, once they’d ducked into the outskirts of the lot.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Or we could just take my car.”

“No,” Spike shook his head, frowning. “They know I got you, if your car goes missin’, they’re gonna find us.”

“They’ll find us anyway,” Buffy argued. “Any car that goes missing from this lot will be reported.”

“Not ‘til the end of the 9 to 5 shift, they won’. And stop bloody arguin’ with me, you’re really startin’ to piss me off,” Spike growled back at her.

Buffy raised her eyebrows at him. “Gee, you really wanna start a tally of who’s pissing who off? ’Cos let me tell you, I think you’d probably win.”

“This one,” Spike murmured, ignoring her and stopping beside a silver Mercedes.

“Typical. Why do you have to steal a nice car? If we’re only ’borrowing’ it, why can’t you steal a piece of crap car.. like that one over there?”

Spike had taken a piece of what looked like ribbon from his back pocket, tied it into a loop and was busy lowering it carefully into the car, via the gap in the front driver’s window. “Way I figure it, the owner of that ’piece of crap’ don’ have insurance. Probably can’t afford it,” Spike stated, his eyes on the loop that he was now trying to hook over the lock on the inside of the door and pull up. “Whereas the owner of this little number will have it insured to the hilt, so it’s not gonna cost them a dime to get any damage fixed, yeah? Jail time’s the same either way, so it don’ much matter where I’m concerned,” he added.

Buffy was quiet, studying this mysterious thief as he struggled a few moments more, then smiled triumphantly and pulled open the door.

“Get in,” he grinned.

Buffy obliged, climbing over into the passenger seat.

Spike shook his head. “Uh-uh. You’re gonna have to drive. I gotta stay low, least ’til we got a few blocks between us and this place.”

“I don’t even know how to drive a stick shift! Not happening,” Buffy shook her head.

“Well, looks like you’re about to learn.”

“I won’t even be able to get us out of this parking lot without killing someone! You don’t think that’s going to draw any unwanted attention?”

“Don’ be such a soddin’ drama queen, you drive, yeah?”

“Yeah, auto only!”

“So, there’s hardly any bloody difference. I’ll tell you what to do, if you can manage to shut your trap and listen for five seconds, you won’ have a problem,” Spike snapped, impatiently.

“And if you could just stop telling me what to do every five seconds, I won’t have to castrate you,” Buffy retorted, arms crossed, face set in a scowl.

“I’m s’posed to tell you what to do, you’re my bloody hostage!”

“I am SO not your goddamn hostage! I’m merely doing you a favour, so that you may, in return, do one for me.”

The pair stared each other down for several seconds.

“Just get in the soddin’ driver’s side, you crazy bint.”

“Fine… asshole.”

Buffy crawled over, behind the steering wheel and Spike climbed into the car, kneeling down in front of the passenger seat.

“So… keys would be great,” Buffy smirked, her pseudo cheerful tone intact.

Spike grinned, producing another tool from his pocket.

Buffy raised an eyebrow. “What else you got in there?” she asked, indicating his pockets. “Rainbow with a pot of gold at the end? All the missing kids from the neighbourhood?”

“Pfft, hardly.”

Buffy drummed her fingernails impatiently on the wheel, as Spike tended to some wires under the dashboard. Several “bloody”, “shit” and “soddings” later, the engine roared to life and Spike’s head (triumphant smirk in place) appeared over the front seat.

“So what do I do?” Buffy asked, her voice portraying anxiety for the first time since Spike had laid eyes on her.

“Right, what you need to do is keep your eye on the level of the revs. Which is here,” he pointed out the meter. “When you’re movin’ and your foot’s on the accelerator, you don’ need to worry too much, but if the revs start gettin’ too high, you have to put your foot onto the clutch and move it up a gear, got it?”

“How do I know if the revs are getting too high?”

“If they get past here,” Spike indicated a line on the meter. “But when they’re gettin’ too much for the car, it’ll tell you anyways. Just listen to the engine, when it’s startin’ to strain itself, it’s time to change gears. Make sense?”

Buffy sighed. “I think so.”

“Then let’s go.”

Buffy lurched the car out of the park and stalled the engine.

“Bloody hell woman, you know I gotta do this jump startin’ crap every time you do that?” Spike barked.

“This was your dumbass idea, I told you I don’t know how to drive a freaking stick shift! So stop being such an asshole.”

Spike pulled the wiring out again and started the engine once more. “Bloody women,” he grumbled.

They managed to get to the exit from the parking lot without stalling again, much to Spike’s relief. He huddled as far down as possible, squashed into the nook under the dashboard.

“You hear about the shenanigans going on upstairs then, taking off early?” the lady in the box at the exit sign said, as Buffy pulled five dollars from her pocket to pay her.

“Oh, you mean the robbery?”

“Botched robbery, yeah. The idiots didn’t think it through too much, one of them got taken down already. Apparently the other one’s got one of the staff hostage. They’re hoping he’ll have the good sense to turn himself in before things get more out of hand than they are already.”

Buffy smirked, picturing Spike’s furious face under the dash. “If he had any ‘good sense’, he wouldn’t have been robbing a bank in the first place.”

The lady nodded, handing Buffy her change. “True that. Enjoy the rest of your day off. Smart thing, getting away from all this.”

The second they had rounded the corner onto the street, Spike pulled himself up into his seat. “You bloody enjoyed that, din’ you,” he grumbled, scowling out the window.

Buffy laughed for the first time in what felt like weeks. “Damn right I did, bleach boy.”

“Are you knockin’ the hair?” Spike asked, incredulously. “I’ll have you know the ladies love my hair!”

“This hair?” she asked, reaching over and tweaking it, keeping her eyes on the road. “It’s kinda Billy Idol.”

“Billy Idol?! I don’ think so.”

Buffy shrugged innocently. “I do.”

“Next phone booth you see, pull over,” Spike ordered, changing the subject.

They drove along in silence for a few minutes, until he spotted a phone box. “Over there.”

“And once I again I say ‘not blind’.”

“Jus’ pull over.”

Buffy pulled over, stalling the engine again and making Spike roll his eyes. “Wait here,” he said, climbing out of the vehicle.

“Not likely,” she retorted, opening her car door and climbing out also.

Spike watched her dazedly for a moment, as she stretched her hands above her head and yawned, revealing a good few inches of flat, toned stomach.

“What? It’s been a long morning. Plus, I think I’m getting a hangover,” Buffy explained, when she caught him staring and misinterpreted his focus on her actions.

Spike cleared his throat. “Right.”

They walked the few metres back up the street and around the corner, where they’d spotted the phone booth and he put in a quarter. He drummed his fingertips on the wall of the booth intolerantly.

Buffy watched with mild interest. “Who are you trying to call anyway?”

“Jonathon and Andrew. The other two who did the robbery with me. Wanna know they’re both okay, see if we’re still meetin’ up in the same place we organised to divide the cash.”

“Right. The cash. Exactly how much money did you steal?” Buffy asked.

Spike frowned and slammed the receiver down when no one picked up. “Dunno, at a guess, I’d say about half a mill.”

Buffy whistled under her breath.

“You think that’s a lot? That don’ even account for whatever Andrew managed to get away with.”

They started walking back to the car, when Spike suddenly grabbed Buffy’s arm roughly, pulling her back against the wall around the corner.

“Ow! God, stop grabbing me, you jerk!”

“Shut up and look over there, you daft bint!” he hissed at her through clenched teeth.

Buffy followed his gaze, which rested on the silver merc, gasping when she saw the four cops staring into the windows. Her eyes swept the street and she noticed that there were several policemen around. Some were speaking to passers by, some were going in and out of shops and some were conversing in a small huddle not far from the abandoned vehicle. Abandoned as of that moment, anyway.

She turned to Spike with questioning eyes. “What now?”

“What now? What do you bloody mean, ’what now?’” Spike snapped at her.

“Shit, sorry, it’s not like I’m experienced with the whole ’fugitive on the run’ scenario,” Buffy bit back, defensively.

Spike tugged her sleeve in the opposite direction. “This way.”

They were headed back up the street towards the phone booth again. They had just passed it when a loud “hey!” was shouted at them from behind. Buffy turned around and saw a police woman standing back at the corner where they had just been. Her and Spike broke into a run, the police woman gesturing behind her to the other cops and sprinting after them. Buffy was soon panting for air, her tobacco abused lungs not used to the work out. Spike kept turning his head to check on her, make sure she was still with him. When she started to lag behind, he grabbed her hand to keep her pace up to his. They took shortcuts through back yards, over fences and through alleys, yet the police always seemed to be at their heels. Things took a turn for the worse when two of the cops stopped running and yelling to pull out their handguns and open fire on the pair. They cut through another backyard in a few short seconds.

“Did that asshole just shoot at us?!” Buffy panted.

Spike nodded. “Gonna go with a sodding big ’yes’ to that.”

“I’m meant to be the hostage and they shoot at me?! Law enforcement in this country is a joke.”

“Damn right it is,” he agreed.

They cut through another property and came out across from an alley. They ran through it, coming out on a small backstreet that housed several small factories. The pair ran between two of them, coming out into the loading docks. A large truck was sitting idle in one of them and Spike gestured to it. “In there,” he panted. He pulled up the roller door, pushing Buffy inside and pulling it shut behind them both. As they turned around to lean their backs against the roller door, Buffy gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as she suppressed a gag.

“Oh my god,” she murmured, when she trusted herself enough to speak.

Spike surveyed the various carcases that hung precariously from the roof. On one side there were obviously pigs, then what looked to be chickens and what was probably cow… parts. All of them were freshly skinned and reeked of dead flesh. The smell was putrid, even to him.

“Just a bit of meat, luv, won’t hurt you,” he mumbled.

“I can’t stay here!” Buffy reached for the roller door, but Spike pulled her away forcefully. “Let me out! Now! I can’t breathe, I’ll suffocate!”

“Look, just chill out. They’re all dead, they won’ do anything to you, so stop carryin’ on. Or did you just forget that the cops are after us?” Spike said into her ear, his hand clamped over her mouth.

Buffy pulled herself free, an expression of pure disgust splayed across her pretty features. “No, I won’t ‘chill out’, I can see that they’re dead and it makes me sick. The smell alone makes me sick. I’m a vegetarian, you stupid ass! Oh and FYI, the cops are after you, not me.”

There was a sound behind them as someone approached the roller door at the back of the truck, wiggling the handle a couple of times to make sure it was secure. Spike gestured to Buffy to keep her mouth shut as the sound of a lock clicking into place could be heard on the outside. Then the front door opened and the engine turned over and suddenly they were both lurched forward head first into the meat, as the truck pulled out of the loading bay.

Buffy shrieked and backed up against the door, her hands over her mouth, trying desperately to just breathe.

Spike looked up at her, from where he had lost his balance and fallen onto the floor of the truck and was struck down by an abrupt bout of sympathy towards the girl. She actually looked like she might be sick. Her face was a picture of absolute terror.

“Look at me,” he said to her softly. It was like she didn’t hear him. “Look at me, luv,” he said, a little louder.

Her gaze fell upon his face.

“I want you to do something for me. I want you to think of your fondest memory. Can be anywhere, anytime. Describe it to me, yeah? In detail, whatever you remember of it.”

Buffy gulped, her face pale and shining with perspiration. “M-my favourite memory?” she questioned stupidly.

Spike hadn’t seen her look this vulnerable all day. She wore her “tough” façade like a second skin. He thought it ironic that something as tame as being inside a meat truck could so thoroughly undo her, considering what she had been through in the last few hours. “Yeah, best time you remember havin’.”

“Ok. I was young… seven, I think. You know, before the world started to suck? My dad took me to the circus. I think that was the last time he really took me anywhere… It was amazing. There were no animals that’d been whipped into submission, just these incredibly talented people. There was even a family of acrobats. One of the kids was only a little older than me and she was fantastic. Her moves, her courage. She inspired me, I wanted to become an acrobat for so long after that… I actually believed I could. My dad told me that night that I could be anything I wanted. I could choose from anything and make my dreams come true and because he believed in me, I believed him…” Buffy was smiling, lost in the memory.

Spike was smiling at her story. “So you wanted to do the acrobat thing, wear the leotards and do all the fancy moves and the like?”

“Yeah. Stupid huh?”

“Dreams aren’t stupid. Just a part of who we are. If we can actually make them happen, then that’s amazin’, ain’t it,” Spike mused.

Buffy met his gaze. “And that’s the problem. Most of the time we can’t and it’s this big let down. We come to resent the mediocrity of our own pathetic lives.”

“Is that what happened to you?” Spike asked, quietly.

Buffy shrugged. “I dunno.”

“Why do you want to kill yourself?”

“I don’t know, god, what do you want me to say to that? I had a shitty childhood? My parents died? I have a terminal disease, my prince charming turned out to be gay? Global warming depressed me, I had a bad week on the stock market?”

“How ‘bout the truth?” Spike pressed.

Buffy sighed. “I don’t know, I’m just fucked up, ok.”

“I think there's gotta be more to it than that, luv.”

Buffy glared at him, suddenly defensive. "You wanna know my dream? My new, grown-up dream, I mean?"

Spike nodded. "Tell me."

"It's a beautiful dream, really."

"Yeah, what is it then?"

"To be cremated."

Spike raised his eyebrows at her. "Well, that's depr-"

The truck lurched to a sudden stop and Spike grabbed Buffy’s arm again, a signal for her to be quiet. The front door opened and footsteps approached the back of the truck once more. The lock was released and the roller door thrown open. The pair jumped out on either side of the delivery man, breaking into a hard sprint before he could even give chase.

“Hey!” He shouted after them in shock.

He looked into the back of truck, saw that nothing was damaged or missing and shrugged his shoulders, looking back at the two stowaways in the distance and shaking his head.





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