Stuffed in the back of an overcrowded elevator, Buffy excused herself past a gray haired man. With a map in her mind, she followed the red line painted on the tiled floor, watching the numbers on the wall decrease. So far everything was going smoothly without any tell-tale signs she was being watched. But she wasn’t sure.

A few nurses and a doctor passed by, each one focused on their destination rather than the girl in the white lab coat and thick round glasses. The fake facade seemed to work exactly as Spike had said, much to Buffy’s annoyance. Even the timing lent itself to coincide with his plan, since most doctors were out visiting patients admitted for the day. Now all she needed to do was to break into the office of Doctor Chandler Hayden.

Buffy grasped the key card hidden in the front pocket of her lab coat about to draw it out, when the sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway. Dropping the card back into her pocket, she took a deep breath, slowly exhaling and turned toward the noise. A man with salt and pepper hair and a slight limp approached her, ignoring a call from a nurse behind him.

She ran her fingers through her hair, cursing her luck. Of all the people to run into in this huge building, it had to be him. With him on her heels, there were two options. She could either run, which was never her style, or she could stay and play this through. But the latter presented problems. One look at her and he would see through this reuse. Unless the last minute prop Spike had given her, could serve a purpose.

Pulling out an empty manila file folder from the inside of her lab coat, she lowered her head and pretended to review the record. Her hair fell, draping over her glasses and shielded half of her face from prying eyes. At least her hair color matched an associate doctor in the office and was styled in a similar fashion.

“Doctor Grimes, a moment please,” the man said keeping a safe distance.

Looking away, Buffy pulled a Kleenex from her pocket and pretended to wipe her nose. Once her nerves calmed, she turned toward him.

“Yes, Doctor Hayden?” She took a shallow breath and began to cough while keeping the tissue close to her face.

“Are you feeling okay, Ashlee?” Hayden cocked his head as if evaluating her appearance.

Buffy waved him off, her hands shaking slightly. “Allergies. Came back for meds before I go out for rounds,” she said trying to sound congested.

He looked over his shoulder a couple of times as if expecting someone else to be standing there. Rolling his shoulders, he addressed her. “Right then, I need you to look at Ms. Jacobson’s file on your desk. Her symptoms seem to be worsening. You might want to test for Parkinson’s.”

Not knowing what else to do she nodded and replied, “Sure thing.” Her words rushed, sounding mumbled.

Without waiting for him to respond, she turned away and shoved the Kleenex back in her pocket. Her fingers brushed the key card, and she couldn’t help but swipe herself to freedom.

“Oh, Ashlee?” His voice was loud, twisting her insides. But years of experience made it easier for her to appear relaxed even though she was far from it.

She tilted her head toward him, her fingers white knuckling around the door and waited for him to respond. Her attempt at casual only went so far. If this went bad, she would have no choice but to silence him.

“Yes, Doctor?”

With a dismissive nod he wished her better and left her standing frozen with the door still gripped in her hand. Everything about the exchange made her feel off balanced and she wondered if the cover worked. As much as she wanted to think through everything, there wasn’t time. So she pushed those feelings away and headed for Hayden’s office.

With offices abandoned for the day, she knelt in front of his door and pulled two lock picks out. Inserting the first one, she felt for the pin stack and lifted it to just the right height. The pin was set. She repeated the process with the other pick and the lock turned.

Grinning, she pushed the door open while hearing Spike’s taunting laugher ringing in her mind. After hours of practicing the art of breaking and entering, she tired of his annoying insults at her lack of skill and wanted more than anything to prove him wrong. Now after that quick performance all she could think was, ‘Look who’s laughing now’, and strode into the dark office.

Flipping the light switch, she found his office tidy with a large cedar desk sitting in the middle and a several steel filing cabinets lining the walls. Her nose burned with the heavy scent of disinfectant, almost causing her to cough. She thought it strange to need such aggressive cleaning in an office, but couldn’t take the time to ponder it further. She had her mission.

First she decided to search his desk, thinking something this important would be hidden in a fake drawer bottom or in a hollowed out medical book. She checked both drawers and pulled out files flipping through each one, but found nothing other than cases studies and patient files. A few medical books sat at the bottom, but there wasn’t anything phony about them. After pulling everything out, she shoved and pried the bottom of each drawer but they were solid.

Deciding the desk was a bust, she moved to the right side of the office where the steel filing cabinets sat and ripped one open. File folders flew from her hands and she grabbed more, flipping through patient files, diagnosis analyses and test results but came up empty handed. It was only when she moved to the last cabinet that she found it locked. She reached for her lock picks and held one to the lock but it was too big.

She took a deep breath and held it, her inner voice berating her for what she was about to do, but she didn’t have a choice. Releasing her breath, she stuffed the picks back into her pocket and grabbed ahold of the cold metal handle. With a quick jerk, she ripped the drawer from its stand. It was empty. Looking below, she saw another bottomless pit.

Without thinking, she threw the drawer to the floor and kicked it across the room.

“Goddamn it.” She couldn’t help but scream, not caring if anyone passing by could hear the ruckus she was making. Was this all for nothing? To get this close and find an empty space, it just couldn’t be.

The surveillance was exact. For weeks, a member of Hayden’s staff watched his every move, reporting back to Spike his movements or habits. Everything led to his office.

Now with only one drawer left, everything relied on it holding the proof that drove this entire pursuit. Without it, she was out of options.

With a heavy sigh, she pulled the last drawer open, picturing another empty drawer. But it wasn’t to be. Stuffed in the back sat a brown accordion-style pocket folder.

With trembling hands, she grabbed the folder, unwinding the string wrapped around then lifted the cover. The file contained reports, pictures and a flash drive tucked secure in a pocket in the back. She mulled over a few of the reports and appraised the pictures until she was satisfied. It wouldn’t be until later till she could review the flash drive, for now the unknown was good enough.

Tucking the file into a large pocket sewn into the inside of her lab coat, she locked the destroyed office not caring if it was found that way. Right now, all that mattered was getting out of here unnoticed.

Instead of following the same path, she left the floor through a stairwell that sat next to huge picturesque window. Buffy climbed down the stairs taking two at a time in her impatience, ready to get out of this place and find out exactly what information might lie in the file. But before she could reach the second floor landing, the door exploded open with a burly security guard with his gun drawn. Hayden walked out behind him with a smile that screamed superiority.

“Oh Ms. Summers, we’ve been expecting you. You didn’t think that little scheme of yours worked, did you?” He laughed, dismissing her with the wave of his hand.

Buffy leaned against the stairwell wall nonchalantly, not at all intimidated by the gun or the man holding it and replied with her signature valley girl charm, “Well yeah, I kinda thought it would.”

The dark haired guard narrowed his eyes, jaw clenched while he steadied his arms. His breathing almost panted in its unevenness, and Buffy decided a difference approach. She was faster than many things in this world, but a speeding bullet wasn’t one of them.

She raised her hands shoulder level and took a step forward. “Let’s not get hasty. There’s no need to resort to violence.”
The move seemed to calm the guard’s nerves and his gun lowered slightly, no longer pointed at her head, giving her the window she needed.

Swiftly, she slid to the left and grabbed his arm, pressuring the gun toward him with her forearm. His face grimaced, his arm shaking from the pressure as he pushed his full strength against her grip. But he couldn’t overpower her and she whipped his arm back. The gun fell out of his hands.

Hayden cursed the guard for his incompetence then leaped for the gun as it slid toward him. Pushing the guard away, Buffy ran after the gun kicking out her feet and glided across the tiled floor, snatching the gun away from Hayden. Instead of using the gun for her defense, she threw it over the stairwell, the clang of the metal echoing off the concrete block walls. Hayden laid on the ground, clutching his arm as shallow whimper rolled through him, pulling Buffy’s attention to him. If it hadn’t been for his eyes looking past her, she may not have realized the guard behind her was about to seize her.

Throwing her elbow back, she struck the man in the gut and whipped around, sweeping his legs out from under him. His head struck the railing and his eyes rolled back as he fell to the ground. He was out for the count.

Lying still on the floor, Hayden’s eyes widened, staring at the unresponsive guard. He shook his head as if to clear it and grabbed ahold of the railing. Standing defiantly, lowering his chin to look down at her and said, “It doesn’t matter what you think you’ve found. It’s already too late. We know too much and it’s only a matter of time until we create our own.”

She folded her arms across her chest, trying to keep herself in check to keep from beating the hell out of him. If she could keep him talking, maybe he would reveal something that wasn’t tucked away in the file hiding in her lab coat. Possibly the self-righteousness in her could piss him off enough to start talking.

“You can try all you want but I will stop you.”

He sneered. “Don’t be so sure, Ms. Summers. You’re not quite the anomaly you may think.”

Buffy took a step forward and lifted her chin. “Oh, I don’t know. Giles used to tell me I broke the mold. Are you so sure you could handle someone as powerful as me?”

He snickered, his mouth curled with an ugly twist. “So self-righteous, but they always are.” Pulling a small black box from his white coat, he pushed a button and a blaring alarm sounded. Darkness fell briefly before flood lights lightened the stairwell triggering a subtle eeriness that wasn’t there before.

The hairs on the back of neck stiffened, cold chill bumps ran down her arms when the exit doors burst open. With the hospital on alert, Buffy didn’t have enough time to contemplate a plan or continue to push for information. She moved on instinct.
Before Hayden could cut and run, she threw an upper cut that landed square under his jaw. His head snapped straight up and his body went limp, falling to the floor in mass heap of white and kaki.

Not giving him another thought, she ran out of the stairwell into a narrow hallway filled to the brim with men and women moving toward an emergency exit. Most people conducted themselves in a calm fashion but a couple of men behind her in security uniforms shoved those in front of them, yelling for everyone to move out of the way.

Buffy slowed her pace; purposely letting others weave around her until she was close enough to hear their conversation.

“Fucking idiots. Didn’t they know someone like that should’ve been in unit thirteen?” said a man with a thick beard and a large beer belly.

The man next to him waved him off. “Oh, it’s not that bad. You remember a couple of week ago when that girl got loose and ended up in the cafeteria. The only thing she ended up doing was painting a picture with the jello.”

“Are you kidding me? She was batshit crazy and stronger than a linebacker. It took six men to restrain her. Shit, she even broke Williamson’s arm.” He paused, and Buffy glimpsed behind her. The man absently rubbed his arms and looked back at the man beside him. “Trust me. Never deny the power of someone that’s escaped the psych ward.”

Buffy tapped her index finger against her lip, listening to them discuss the checkpoints that were in place at each exit. Security had strict orders to check each individual’s credentials before they were allowed to exit the building.

If a forged ID card hadn’t been tucked away in her lab coat before this whole thing started, this might have posed a problem for her. But that wasn’t the obstacle standing in her way. What kept her from breezing out of here was a picture held in each guard’s hand.

A four by six picture of a blonde girl with green eyes and not a care in the world beamed. Her pre-Sunnydale days if she remembered correctly. A flash of the days past moved through her and the distance pushed her forward.

Buffy quickened her pace, tucking herself into a mix of chatty women in blue scrubs and interjected herself into the conversation.

“Why are we evacuating instead of going in to lock down?” She kept her gaze alert, noticing where the guards were focusing their attention.

Leaning forward, the woman with curly red hair spoke. “I heard that normal protocol backfired, and security couldn’t keep the building locked.” Her hands moved with animated vigor. “So instead, half of security is posted at each exit while the other half is checking each floor. Only vital staff got lucky enough to stay behind with their patients to make the search easier.”

Buffy nodded slowly and the woman turned back to her friends, seeming to forget their exchange. The woman’s comment about the failed security measures spurred her inner Sherlock, and she wished she had time to stagger back and survey the scene. But the seriousness of what was in front of her kept her on track.

The red headed nurse flinched when the guard requested her ID, berating her for not being ready for him. The sight of their rifles drawn kept the woman quiet as she fulfilled their request and was sent through.

Prepared, Buffy smiled politely even though it wasn’t even close to genuine and offered the guard her ID card. His eyes narrowed checking the picture and the writing on the back. Keeping the card in his grip, he lifted the photo up and held it next to her face. He glanced back and forth from her to the picture. He cocked his head and gave her a condescending smile.

“So, am I free to go?” Her tone was all innocence while she glanced at the retreating backs of other employees making their way to freedom. ‘There’s nothing wrong. He’s just trying to intimidate me. Just keep your cool, it’s almost over.’ She repeated this mantra over and over while keeping her stare emotionless.

He considered her, giving the picture one last look before his scrutiny changed to something more of a leer than an inquisitive nature. “Girl like you deserves a second look.” He winked at her as he handed her the card back and waved the next person through.

She ignored his comment, grabbing her card and merged with another group of people coming from an exit close by. Wrapping her arms around herself, she took a deep breath and tried to settle the drummer hiding away in her heart. What was supposed to be an easy in and out had turned to chaos. Nothing had gone according to plan, but here she was walking away with the evidence and unscathed for once. But it was too early to celebrate, she still had to meet up with Spike and get out of the city.

An older balding man cut in front of her and impolitely pushed through the throng of people. Buffy decided to let him take the lead and followed him to the end of the block, where a woman with a purple sign marked P2 stood. Once she breached the mass group of people, she turned the corner around a red brick building. She gave a passing look to see if anyone followed, and she ran.

Chapter 2

The file jiggled in the concealed pocket, as Buffy sprinted down the street, taking a shortcut through an alleyway toward the meeting place. Once she turned the corner at a hidden one-way entrance, she slowed her pace and removed the glasses from her face, slipping them into her front pocket. The arranged meeting place was tucked between two high-rise buildings only used for deliveries during the work day. It was the perfect hiding spot for late afternoon when most people were on their commute home.

In the shadows, Spike leaned against the brick building, a cloud of smoke surrounding him. He took one last drag off of his cigarette and flicked it away. Their eyes met, her skin crackled with electricity, pulling her toward him. Stepping up to him, she wrapped her arms around him, nestling her face into his chest. She breathed in a scent that was only his.

“Chain smoke much?” she said, laughing at the carpet of ash and butts on the concrete. A mental image of him pacing back and forth chain smoking with his duster billowing in his haste crossed her mind. Remnants of his worry and frustration lined his blue eyes and clenched his jaw. He rubbed his face and released a breath. Buffy knew had the roles been reversed, she would not have coped as well as he had.

“Were you worried about me?” she said her voice breathy.

Spike looked down at her with his eyebrow cocked. “I couldn’t keep from fidgeting, too much energy bouncing around waiting for you to show. Could’ve used a spot of violence.” Remnants of his frustration seeped into his voice.

He was nothing like Angel, leaving her to make her decisions and letting her handle things the way she saw fit. His support meant everything, even if she was too stubborn to see it sometimes.

“I wish you could‘ve been with me.” She looked up into his eyes and put on a smoldering tone. “You know that, right?”

He sighed and gazed into her eyes. “I know, luv.”

Buffy spoke next. “Maybe I should have gone to Willow and asked.” He raised his finger to her lips and shook his head. “But if I had, you could have gone with me, and not bounced off of the vampire barrier like a freaking basketball. I might not have…”

He looked down at the file poking out of her coat and held his hand out. Buffy passed the file to him and watched as he flipped through its contents. “I’d say everything worked out just fine, luv. No need to worry about me.”

“But the lock picks were too big!” she said. “I had to rip the place apart. For a while, I didn’t think I was going to find anything.” She let her words linger then shook her head.

“And yet here it is,” Spike said, closing the file. Buffy looked away and shook her head. Spike continued. “What’s the problem, Buffy?”

“Getting the file was the easy part. Getting out of there was a different story.”

“It usually is.”

“No, that’s not what I mean,” she said clinging to him tighter. “It was like he was expecting me, Spike. He saw me before I even reached his office, but he let me go. And then he was waiting with a guard when I hit the stairwell.”

“Bloody hell!” Spike said, raising his voice and holding her by the arms. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? They’re probably scoping the area right now. We’ve got to get the hell out of here.”

Before he moved to the car, he gave her a quick but bruising kiss, winking at her before he released her. For a moment she couldn’t move, reaching up to touch the sting of his kiss. If they had been anywhere else, there was no way she would let him walk away, but there wasn’t time.

She got in the car on the passenger side as he shoved the file into the glove compartment. She buckled up as the engine roared to life then moved out of the shadowed alleyway and into the sunlight. For the millionth time, Buffy was happy that Spike had put tempered glass in the car instead of the black spray paint he used on the Desoto. Seeing the road made a surprising difference to his driving style.

They were only a couple blocks away from their rendezvous point when two black vans pulled up behind them, weaving in and out of traffic trying to catch up with them. Spike noticed them in the rearview mirror and told her to hold onto something. In front of them, the traffic light turned yellow, and he floored it, weaving the car around a silver SUV that had slammed their breaks at the last minute. Behind them, one of the black vans ran the red light, barely missing a car that was making its way through the intersection.

“Shit,” Buffy yelled, looking back at the chaos that seemed to follow them.

Spike laughed, keeping his eyes on the road. “Oh luv, I’ve been dying to do this, it’s just your bad luck to be with me.”

Wide eyed she responded, “This piece of shit? Hello! The 1980s called, and they want their car back!”

“Oui! I’ll have you know the Grand National was the hot rod of its time,” he smirked. “Hold tight. We’re about to dust these wankers.”

His foot hit the gas pedal, and Buffy was pushed back into the leather seat as the car roared. Spike swung it around the rush hour traffic that had started to wind down. Frowning in concentration, he weaved in and out of traffic, cursing at the idiots that were too busy looking at their cellphones than what was going on around them.

Out of nowhere, a small foreign hatchback popped up. Spike caught it just in time, veering into oncoming traffic. The other van disappeared a few lights back, and Spike told her to keep watch. In all of his years, he said never to count anything out.

Alert and prepared, she kept her eyes on the mirrors ceaselessly monitoring what was in front of them. It was enough to make her dizzy, but the seriousness of the situation kept her grounded and her mind focused on the task at hand.

He turned the wheel sharply, the wheels screeching as he took a sudden corner, barely avoiding the bushes that sat at the edge of the roadway. The van barreled through the landscaping continuing its relentless pursuit.

As they neared another traffic light, a car slowed to a halt in front of them.

Spike slammed on the brakes and swerved out of the lane, narrowly cutting in between two honking cars. He hit the gas once more, powering through traffic.

The game of cat and mouse continued with another close call, their car almost colliding with a mini-van in front of a drugstore chain, but they remained unscathed. Both vans kept up a steady speed, a few times breaking away to take a different route. Spike managed to keep his lead even when the vans reappeared ready to run them off the roadway.

After miles of racing, Spike still couldn’t shake them. The city landscape soon faded into subdivisions and shopping malls, many buildings brand new with leasing signs posted. Sunlight blazed in their eyes, and Buffy wished for sunglasses, anything to help get the spots out of her vision. Spike seemed unaffected instead scanning the road.

A round-about up ahead slowed the cars in front, and Spike cut around them using the breakdown lane. Cars honked, flipping them the bird. He cut in between two merging cars, then took the third right turn. One of the vans managed to follow, but the other was caught by a pickup with a gun rack in its back windshield that refused to let them merge.

Blue signs for Interstate 65 south passed by and Buffy let out a deep breath. Once Spike hit the on-ramp to the interstate, Buffy knew the van didn’t stand a chance of catching them. They were almost home free.

Buffy saw the interstate ramp on the right and relaxed in her seat. But instead of taking the exit like she thought, he passed it up and turned into a subdivision.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Buffy screamed.

“Trust me, luv,” he said, keenly taking in the dingy surroundings. “I know what I’m doing.”

She shook her head and let the argument drop, praying he was right.

The Grand National’s engine roared as he shifted, pulling right onto another side road. The pavement petered out at the end of a row of half-built upper-class homes not quite caught up with the rest of the neighborhood.

Spike maneuvered at top speed around wood frames, the back end sliding out dangerously. Dust clouded the path behind them, making Buffy lose track of the van until a metallic crunch boomed out from behind them.

As she watched, the dust slowly floated away in the breeze to reveal the back end of the van sticking out of a basement foundation. A smile broke across her face, and she squealed in delight. Spike glanced over at her with a shit-eating grin and continued toward a grassy field.

Just when she relaxed a bit thinking they were home free, the other black van appeared in their rearview mirror.

“Spike?” she said, staring out the back window.

“I’m on it,” Spike said, jolting the car into a lower gear and powering into the rolling green fields.

Everything in her was screaming at him to turn around and get back to a road, but she couldn’t make herself divert his attention from the chaos. Clumps of grass and dirt flew up over the side. The car bounced around like a monster truck, her head jiggling to and fro uncontrollably.

Spike crisscrossed sporadically, but the van wouldn’t budge. He tried on the last hit attempt and slammed into it so hard the van bounced onto two wheels. But the van slammed back down and revved harder as if nothing happened.

As they reached the edge of the field, Buffy saw a narrow, gravel road slicing through the green.

“Hold tight!” Spike yelled, snapping the wheel to a hard left, stomping on the clutch and pulling on the handbrake. The car spun, swung round, back wheels locked and sent a spray of gravel into the air behind them. Releasing the clutch and letting the wheel straighten, he slammed his foot on the gas. The car fishtailed before he got it under control, and they sped away down the makeshift road.

A loud thud cracked from behind them. Buffy spun to see the van’s hood dug into the stones, wheels still spinning and smoke pouring out from the broken engine.

“Whooooie!” Buffy screamed in relief, grinning from ear to ear.

“Well that was fun,” he said, easily, before breaking into more laughter. “I guess we should get away from the main roads in case they’ve got others out looking for us.”

“I’m fine with that,” she said, slumping down in the seat and trying to catch her breath.

************

Twenty minutes later, Spike pulled down an old country lane. Overgrown trees covered the gravel road blocking most of what was left of the setting sun. Dead leaves laid on the edge of the road against a barbed wire fence securing a cattle pasture.

They finally turned down a bumpy, dirt path that led to an old abandoned house. Sun-bleached shutters hung by a single nail onto the weathered wooden siding. A hint of what was once white paint covered the single story home in flakes. Spike pulled round the back next to a screened porch ripped to shreds.

Once he pulled the break, Buffy pulled the latch, and the door squeaked open. She stepped out and waited as Spike strode around the car to meet her. She had this feeling that they weren’t out of harm’s way just yet, and she had to be sure.

Spike chuckled, leaning back on the car, and stared up at the house. “I think we lost them, luv,” he said with a smile.

Buffy stared back at him; cheeks flushed, her breathing still heavy. She walked over to him and moved in close.

Spike stood tall, his twinkling eyes staring back at her. He pulled her to him; then his mouth closed over hers.

His soft, cool lips consumed her, seeking, tasting as his fingers threaded through her hair and grabbed a handful her silky strands, pulling her closer. Buffy moaned, rubbing her breasts against his chest. Her hands slid down to the hem of his black t-shirt, slipping underneath and stroked his bare muscled stomach. His body hummed with energy, seeping into her skin, spreading over her body in a heady mix of excitement and forbidden lust.

Spike maneuvered Buffy over to the passenger side of the car, and pushed her white lab coat off her shoulders, kissing her neck. His cool breath sent shivers down her spine as she further explored with her hands dangerously low until she felt his hard cock throb. She rubbed aggressively as he strained against her, creating more friction.

Spike’s hands roamed down her hips and up her thighs rubbing her pussy through her black dress pants. Buffy moved with his fingers wishing to feel his magical touch against her bare skin.

As if he’d heard her thoughts, he moved higher and unbuttoned her pants.

“I want you,” he muttered, his lips against her ear.

She moaned, her lashes fluttering with anticipation.

He kneeled, and lowered his mouth, kissing her now bare thighs with soft kisses. Once he reached her panties, he ripped them off with a quick tug, his mouth latching onto her as he swirled his tongue along her crease, spreading her lips further apart as he divulged in her warm pink flesh.

Buffy’s head fell back against the car and whimpered, panting trying to keep her leg upright as his tongue relentlessly licked, probing her as her loins twisted in pleasure with each new rub.

It would have driven her crazy if she hadn’t savored it. But she kept pushing him on for more.

“Spike, don’t stop. It feels so good. Yes! Just like that.”

He groaned as he slipped a finger into her, and her moans got louder. He added another finger pulling in and out as he sucked on her clit. Heat built, running through her limbs, Buffy’s cries growing louder as the pressure built until finally the dam broke. She convulsed, the spasms shaking her as Spike tongued her flesh, sucking as he drank her pleasure into him. She leaned all of her weight against the car as the last remaining waves of desire rippled through her.

He pulled away from her with a purely masculine smile, then raked his tongue over his teeth, making her gasp. She couldn’t stop shaking, even after he stood and kissed her deeply as he ran his hands over her breasts.

Buffy reached the top of his pants, pulling the top button free and jerking the zipper down. His erection sprung free, and she wrapped her hands around his girth, stroking him roughly.

“Do you want me, luv?” he asked with a low growl.

Buffy licked his lips.

“Tell me.” He kissed behind her ear, teasing her sensitive skin.

She looked up at him with a sultry smile, “I want you.”

Spiked growled and pushed his duster off and then shifted, lifting Buffy up to straddle his waist. He stared into her eyes for just a second before he thrust deeply inside her. His eyes closed briefly before looking back into her depths and pulling himself nearly all the way out and back in with a single arch of his hips. Spike reached down and grabbed both sides of her hips, pulling her closer, rubbing her against him to coincide with his movements.

Buffy matched his rhythm, rocking her hips with each thrust as she rubbed her clit against him, increasing the friction. She moaned as he drove into her, increasing his pace with each stroke, driving them both toward release.

All she could think was harder-faster, as she clawed at his back, desperate to feel his bare skin. He seemed to sense her thoughts and picked up the pace until she thought she might break in two. Spasms shook her from the inside out as her body convulsed, and finally snapped. Warm heat spread through her, as her pleasure spilled from her. In the distance, she could hear screaming but had no idea where it was coming from. Spike growled, as his whole body trembled as he reached climax, spilling himself inside her.

She clung to him, with her heart beating at a speed that might be dangerous if not for her supernatural abilities. Spike took an unneeded breath and looked at her with a curl to his lips.

“How was that Slayer?”

Buffy rolled her eyes at him and smiled.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he smirked.

Spike pulled out of her, and gently sat her feet back on the ground, then zipped his pants up as Buffy lifted hers and straightened her shirt.

She was about to take a seat on the hood when she saw Spike walk over to the other side of the car and pick something up.

“Do you want these back, or can I keep them as a souvenir?”

Buffy looked closer and saw that he had her ripped underwear in his hand. She snatched them away when a naughty thought popped into her head.

She shoved her underwear into his hands. “Don’t get used to it,” she smirked.

Spike stared at her in shocked as she sauntered back to the car.

Suddenly, a wheezing, groaning sound cut through the moment before a blue box manifested from thin air, appearing next to the house. Stunned, Buffy and Spike stared at the blue door as it squeaked open, and a man with spiky hair and a bright blue suit stepped out.

Buffy opened and closed her mouth, trying to think of what to say, what to do. Spike moved beside her and reached for her when Buffy took a step toward the man.

“My, it has been some time since I’ve been to the States,” he said, looking around absently.

Buffy politely cleared her throat.

The man took in a deep breath, filling his lungs and then let it out with a satisfied sigh. “Ah… it’s been a while, but the place still smells the same.”

Spike piped up from behind Buffy. “Who the bloody hell are you?” he muttered.

The man looked down at Spike. “Well, just look at that hair!” he said, astonished. He stepped away from the blue box and strode toward Buffy’s boyfriend, reaching out a hand. “You must be Spike.” Spike made a noise something like a growl, and the man stopped next to Buffy, and turned and regarded her. “And you must be Buffy.” His voice was different, somehow. All the air of smug superiority gone.

“And you are?” Buffy said.

“I’m the Doctor,” he said, gesturing daintily in the air. “And I’m here to fix your mess.”