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Buffy didn't argue when Spike stopped to get her dinner, instead accepting it and eating silently in the passenger's seat of his car. She was too worn down to rebel against him anymore. She'd tried every way there was to get out of this, and none of those ways had been successful. She couldn't push him away, she couldn't run, and apparently he wasn't going to let her die.

Maybe she'd go crazy soon and be too far gone to know what was going on. She could hold out hope for that.

She was still eating her burger when Spike stopped at a gas station, filling up the DeSoto's tank. Buffy frowned when came back to the car with a Styrofoam cooler and a bag of ice and put them in the backseat. What the hell was he planning now?

"Gotta make a stop before we get on the road tonight, pet," he said when he got back behind the wheel. "It won't take long."

Buffy almost asked what he needed to stop for, but then realized he was probably going to feed. He hadn't yet that day, and she could feel through the claim that he was hungry. She put what was left of her food into the bag and set it on the floorboard, staring forward as they pulled out of the gas station.

It wasn't long before he stopped again. Spike looked over at Buffy though she continued to stare ahead of her. "Wait here," he said.

Buffy didn't reply and Spike didn't say anything else, just got out of the car and shut the door behind him. Buffy sat alone in the dark, nervousness rising in her. She hated waiting for this, knowing the feel of him feeding was coming, but not knowing exactly when. he didn't even know where he'd taken her, the black paint over the windows isolating her from the world around her.

She needed to know. She knew she couldn't do anything to change what was happening, but she needed to at least know where he'd taken her this time. Tentatively, she opened the car door, peeking out. Her brow furrowed as she saw where they were. The hospital?

Why on earth had Spike come to the hospital? Did he think maybe she wouldn't be as upset by his feeding if he just picked off the people that were dying anyway?

She shut the door again, gripping the edge of the seat as she waited. He'd been gone for a while now, and it would probably be soon. She scrunched her eyes tight, waiting…

And waiting…

Nothing. Not a single twinge of what she felt whenever Spike fed. She frowned, wondering what he could be up to. It wasn't like he'd come to the hospital because he was in need of medical attention, and she doubted he'd bring her to one either, suicide attempt or not.

She jumped when she heard the door to the backseat open, then turned to see Spike opening the cooler and filling with things he was pulling from under his duster. She squinted to try to see what, but it was too dark for her to make it out. What could he need to keep on ice, body parts? Her nose scrunched at that.

Spike kept one of the objects in his hand as he came back to the front seat. He raised it to his mouth, his vampiric face sliding forward as he tore it open with his fangs, and Buffy realized what it was—blood. Bagged blood, to be specific. Relief flooded her as it became clear that he had no intentions of feeding tonight—or for the next few nights if the amount of blood he'd put in the cooler was any indication.

Still, she couldn't keep from saying something as she watched him suck out what was in the packet. "People need those for transfusions, you know."

Spike turned towards her, his yellow eyes flickering. "Oh you shut up."

Buffy giggled softly, and Spike realized she'd been teasing him. He mumbled something under his breath as he returned to his dinner, and Buffy reached out, resting her hand against his thigh. "Thank you."

"I've never been more afraid than I was last night when I came in and found you," Spike admitted softly.

His words surprised Buffy, and she pulled her hand away. His response to her suicide attempted wasn't at all the sort she would've expected. She would've thought he'd be angry, try to punish her then make sure she didn't have the chance to do it again. Or take away her free will completely like he kept threatening yet had still not done.

She was beginning to wonder if he even really could…

Instead, he'd panicked at the thought of losing her and was now switching to bagged blood for her. It wasn't how a vampire was supposed to behave at all. It was too…caring.

She filed that firmly away in the slot in her mind marked D for Denial. Vampires who cared and had feelings were not something she could deal with. Instead, she slumped back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest.

Spike opened the door and tossed out the now-empty blood packet before shutting the door back and driving out of the parking lot.

*** *** ***

"Buffy? Come on, luv, sun's almost up. Time to get out of the car and get inside for the day."

Buffy mumbled, turning away from Spike as he shook her shoulders lightly. She'd fallen asleep in the DeSoto at some point during the ride, still exhausted from everything she'd been through despite sleeping for most of the day.

"Just gotta wake up for a few minutes, Buffy, and then you can rest all you want, okay?"

Buffy blinked as she struggled to open her eyes. "Where are we?" she asked sleepily.

"Seattle," Spike said. "Or thereabouts anyway. Come on, kitten."

Buffy got out of the car, stumbling a little before stretching her cramped limbs. "I'm so sick of being in that car," she muttered.

"I know, princess," Spike replied. He put his arm around her, helping her walk. "I've already brought your things up to the room, so let's just go in, yeah?"

Buffy nodded, deciding that sounded like a good idea. She walked with Spike into the lobby, stopping a little when she saw where they were. Granted, it wasn't the Ritz or anything, but it was a far cry from the run-down motels where they'd been staying. "Hey, this place is sorta nice," Buffy said, looking around.

"I thought you could use a place a little more comfortable right now," Spike replied. "Maybe stay a couple days and rest?"

Buffy looked up at him. "Can we really?"

"Yeah, we can. Room's upstairs. Let's go."

Spike took her on the elevator, and Buffy kept her head nestled against his side, her eyes closing again until the doors opened with a ding. She stumbled a little walking again, and Spike lifted her up this time, carrying her down the hall and into their room, opening the door with a keycard.

He put her down on the large bed in the center of the room, and Buffy sighed, the mattress there so much more comfortable than the ones they'd been sleeping on. Spike took off her shoes then helped her take off the rest of her clothes before getting her under the covers. "Go back to sleep, princess," he said softly, kissing her forehead.

Buffy nodded her agreement, already following his words.

*** *** ***

Buffy woke up feeling decidedly more rested than she remembered being in some time, her limbs not stiff and aching for once. Spike was curled up behind her and she moved against him without thinking, settling into his embrace.

As she became more aware of her surroundings, she remembered Spike bringing her into the actually decent hotel the night before and was glad to see that that hadn't been a dream. And he'd also told her they could stay there for a little while, which made her want to jump up and down with glee. The past few days had taken their toll on her both physically and emotionally, and rest was exactly what she needed.

She turned in Spike's arms so she could face him, and watched him for a few moments while he slept. He'd told her last night in the car that he'd actually been afraid when he'd seen her in the bathroom. Had he meant he was just afraid because of the whole being mated thing, or was he actually afraid for her?

Buffy bit her bottom lip. So much of this claim confused her, the most confusing thing of all being her own feelings—as well as Spike's. She'd tried to convince herself that anything positive she felt for him or he felt for her was fabricated by the claim, but Spike insisted otherwise. So what was it? Could he honestly care so deeply for her that he'd go against his very nature to stop feeding from live humans?

Was taking her here and letting her rest his way of apologizing for his earlier treatment of her, of trying to start making it up to her?

She wanted to believe that as much as she didn't. It would be so nice if it was true, if she could just surrender herself to all of this and maybe find happiness in the arms of a man she had to admit was quite attractive. But on the other hand, accepting a vampire could behave like this because he actually cared for someone and not because he was hoping for some personal gain went completely against everything she'd been raised to believe. Almost from the time she was born, Buffy had been taught to see vampires as the quintessential representation of evil. With the Slayer as her mother, she'd been taught early to fear them, the rules of her childhood centering around keeping her from becoming the meal of a vampire wanting to get to her mother.

Never leave the house after dark by yourself.

Never invite anyone in, even someone you know.

Never trust a vampire—they'll always trick you.

It was that last rule that stuck with her the most now. She remembered when she'd learned it, as a girl of only three years old. She'd been shopping with her mother when they'd gotten separated, and Buffy had been terrified, wandering around in search of Joyce until she'd ended up lost in a passage of service corridors. There a man had stopped her, telling her he knew her mother and that he would bring her to her.

She'd discovered quickly that he was a vampire. Another rule her mother had set was to always carry a cross and to use it to test anyone that frightened her. Joyce had sewn one into the arm of Buffy's favorite toy—a stuffed pig she'd named Mr. Gordo—allowing the girl to press it against the vampire's skin, the burn that rose forth telling her what she needed to know.

But the vampire had merely smiled at her, telling her that yes, he was what she thought he was, but it was okay. He was a good vampire, and he was going to help her now because her mother was in trouble. Buffy had been reaching tentatively to take his hand when he'd exploded into dust, her mother standing behind him, stake in hand. She'd scooped Buffy up then, holding her desperately and making her promise to never ever trust a vampire, no matter what it said, They were skilled liars, able to lure almost anyone into their grasp. First and foremost, they were hunters, and a sweet façade could often be just what they needed to ensnare their prey.

Vampires could lie with a smile. They could offer you just what you wanted, making you feel safe until the very moment when they sunk their fangs into your neck. They cared only for themselves, and would never do anything that wasn't self-serving. Her mother had been so clear about that, drilled it into her head until Buffy knew it was the absolute truth, something that could never change.

Vampires couldn't be trusted. Spike was a vampire. Spike couldn't be trusted.

So what did he have to gain from all of this? What did he have to gain from choosing bagged blood over fresh?

Buffy racked her brain and couldn't think of a single thing. And the way he'd told her he was afraid last night… It had sounded so sincere, his words holding what could only be pain. And then there was what she felt through the claim. There was no dishonesty coming through, nothing that seemed to indicate that he was being anything but forthright in his feelings and actions towards her.

But then again, the claim had come from him, so couldn't it be lying to her, too?

Her brain said yes. Her heart screamed no.

It was like information overload trying to process it all, too much conflicting data to compute. So she just wouldn't, simple as that. Spike was evil and he didn't really care about her because he was a vampire and that was the way of things.

There, that was simple enough.

All it took was for Spike to open his eyes to un-simple it right up.

He looked at her as if he adored her, smiling softly as he woke. "You sleep all right last night, kitten?" he asked, his voice rumbly enough to make her shiver.

"Yeah, I did," she admitted. "This bed's comfy."

"Mmm…it is," Spike agreed. He pulled her closer, his lips descending, but stopping right before they touched hers. "Nice an' warm with you in it." He did kiss her then, with that toe-curling passion she'd come to associate with him.

Soon, he was rolling them over, his erection poking into her thigh and making it clear what he wanted. Buffy felt an immediate flood of moisture between her legs, but at the same time she didn't want to do this, not now. Things were still too jumbled for her, and even with him choosing bagged blood the night before, the effects of feeling him feed were still reverberating through her. She pushed against his chest. "I can't do this."

Spike pulled up immediately, and Buffy was surprised when he rolled off of her and didn't press the issue. She'd expected it to turn into a battle of wills and had feared he'd use the claim to make her change her mind, to give into what her body wanted instead of the rest of her. "Yeah, all right," he said instead, almost as if he'd expected that to be her response. He cleared his throat. "There's a pretty decent bathtub in there. Why don't you go soak for a bit, and I'll call room service to get you some breakfast, okay?"

It was a strange response from him, but the offer was too good of one for her to turn down. "All right. That sounds nice."

Spike kissed her forehead then let her slip from his arms. "Call me if you need anything."

"I will," she told him before getting out of the bed and going to the bathroom. She stopped at the door, turning towards him again, but he was sitting up now, his back to her, and Buffy said nothing, walking into the other room instead.

*** *** ***

To make up for that week between chapters following a big cliffhanger, I'm posting two chapters in a row. Hope you're still enjoying the fic!





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