He could hear their blood pumping, rushing through their veins--each and every one of them: the woman with the baby, the rabbi, the blind man... His stomach growled as the demon in him begged for a drink Who knew how long it would be until he had his next chance at tasting the coppery fluid that sustains his unlife? Spike knew his opportunity for feeding would be slim once they’d reached Britain; his assignment would probably have him hip-to-hip with the Slayer which meant no fresh blood for ol’ Spike.

He shifted in his seat and crossed his legs. Then he uncrossed them. He needed to do this just right, so as not to raise any suspicion. He shifted again and grumbled. “Look, pet. I’m gonna go and have a smoke. All this waitin’s just making me edgy.”

Thank God. Buffy looked up from her magazine. “Ok--anything that will get you to stop fidgeting. You’re driving me nuts. If you’re like that while we’re on the plane, I’m gonna have to tie you down.” When the blonde vampire raised an eyebrow at her last comment, she shook her head. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Spike. Just... go and smoke.”

Spike whistled as he walked through the airport, looking for his next meal. Mmm... kinda like a buffet, isn’t it? Always too much to choose from... He saw a group of people waiting in line at one of the snack bars, and appraised each individual. Nah, don’t feel like Chinese; ugh--too greasy; tempting, but too small--I’d still be hungry afterwards. He knew he was being picky and he needed to act fast, before the Slayer decided to come looking for him.

He decided to go with the failsafe method: wait in the washrooms until some poor bloke walked in.

He hadn’t been waiting long before he heard the door open. Peering through the crack in the cubicle doorway, he saw an older gentleman in a suit. He let the man finish his business before walking out of the stall--there was nothing worse than drinking from someone who wet themselves. It was enough to lose your appetite.

The man was washing his hands when he heard someone leave one of the stalls. His head was facing down as the weight of his trip finally took a toll on him. Only two more hours, he thought to himself, and I’ll be back home. I’ve got to stop taking these trips--I never get to see Muriel or the girls anymore... He looked up and frowned. He could hear someone behind him, but there was no other reflection in the mirror, save his own. When he turned around and saw no one, he chuckled quietly. “Great, Bob, now you’re hearing things.”

A voice which chilled his soul whispered from behind him. “Sorry to say Bob, but you’re hearing’s dead on.”

The older businessman turned on the spot and found himself staring into the amber eyes of a killer. He took in a sharp breath, but didn’t scream. “Oh dear God...” He was facing... hell, he didn’t know what it was--its eyes were yellow, its face was bumpy and it had pointy teeth. He began to laugh nervously. “A vampire?”

Spike couldn’t help but smile at the man who faced death and laughed. “Very astute of you, Bob. Now for the million dollar question: what do vampires do to chubby over-the-hill salesmen?” He moved closer to the other man and put a hand to his neck, tilting his head to the side. His demon thrived on the racing heartbeat, the adrenaline, the fear...

Bob stared at Spike with an unwavering gaze. “Please don’t. I... I haven’t seen my wife or my daughters in over three weeks.” He saw the vampire’s eyes roll, but kept at it nonetheless. “I just made the sale of a lifetime--it’s enough to finally go to Disneyland. Please, please don’t do this to them...” He closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable.

Not one of his victims had ever gotten that many words in--not ever. Spike wasn’t really the type of vampire to play with his food; not like Angelus, anyway. He would usually snap their necks in mid-whimper and drink. Now he found himself slightly ill at ease, and he hated Bob that much more for it. Why should the death’s door prattling about wives and daughters and Disneyland phase him, anyway? This man was a prime example of a ‘happy meal on legs’--he was dinner. End of story.

“Sorry, chap--but my plane’s going to be leaving sometime soon. Gotta get this show on the road.” He leaned in and bit the man’s neck, drinking in all the blood and fear that came out of him. When he felt the man’s pulse weaken, he pulled away. The demon in him roared in frustration. What the hell?! There’s still some juice left in him--don’t let it go to waste! You fucking ponce--it’s all because of that speech, isn’t it? What’s next--brown bagging it like the grandsire?

Spike lashed out and kicked the waste basket, tearing it off the wall. Looking down, he saw the slumped form of Bob the salesman--heart still beating. He pulled the man into one of the cubicles, sat him on the john and closed the door, all the while cursing at himself under his breath. He turned to the sinks and washed up before lighting himself a cigarette. At this point, he truly needed the nicotine to calm his nerves.

***

Spike returned from his ‘cigarette break’ and headed towards his seat. He picked his magazine up off the chair and sat down, staring ahead. The cigarette hadn’t really helped him understand where the... emoting... had come from; truth was, however, he didn’t care anymore. Maybe it was just an off day--he was nervous, he was stuck with the Slayer, he was about to return to Britain. Yeah, that must be it--just chalk it up to nerves.

He shot a sideways glance at the young woman, trying to broach a conversation. They had to open up a little, or this was going to be one of the longest couple of weeks ever... “So, this kiddie’s birthday thing--is that something you do often?” Wanker--what a stupid question...

Buffy put her magazine down and smiled at Spike. Ever the social creature, she much better preferred a conversation to reading--even if it was an article on Joseph Fiennes...

“Oh, God no! Once a year is so more than enough. That stupid birthday party is the low point of my year--I always get stuck entertaining the kids, while Mom and Willow cook the hot dogs. I suck at straws...” At the questioning look the peroxide vamp gave her, she blushed. “Uh, yeah--that didn’t sound good, did it?”

“Sounded good to me, pet. I think I know what you meant, though--you always get the short straw, right?”

Buffy exhaled, relieved that he’d gotten her meaning. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I meant. Willow never gets kiddie duty, and she actually likes kids.” Leaning in so no one else could hear them, she admitted, “Kids scare me. It’s like they’re smarter than they seem. They make me nervous--it’s kind of like being tested, or something.”

Spike chuckled. “And all this time I’ve been trying to kill you, I’ve been going about it all wrong. Should’ve just hired a bunch of tots to hound you. Could‘ve run you right out of Sunnyhell...”

“Oh, you’re so funny. And I bet you have so much experience with kids, fang face?”

“No, I was an only child. But in my day, women your age already had children. It’s just funny to hear that not only have you no idea what to do with them, but that they frighten you.” He continued chuckling to himself.

Buffy decided to turn the tables. “So now you know my dark secret. What’s yours? What silly little thing scares the big bad, huh, Spike?”

The vampire gave her a deer-in-the-headlights stare before regaining his big-bad attitude. “Haven’t got one.” There, maybe she won’t push it.

“Yeah, right. Everyone’s got something. Betcha yours is really silly--more than kids. Hey, how ‘bout I try to guess?” She looked like a kid in a candy shop. She jumped up in her seat, and straightened up. “Hmm... let me think. Are you afraid of heights?”

“No.”

“Water?”

“Unless it’s the holy variety, no.”

“The dark? Uh, nix that one. How ‘bout dogs?”

Spike looked at her like she’d grown a second head. “No.”

Buffy bit her lower lip. There had to be something--there’s always something... “Dolls?”

“No, unless you’re talkin’ about Miss Edith.”

Now it was Buffy’s turn to stare at her companion. “Spike--who, or what, is Miss Edith?”

“Miss Edith is Dru’s psychic doll. Too long to explain, pet. Keep guessing...” He was getting tired of playing twenty questions, but at least she was talking to him. This was much better than uncomfortable silence.

“Snakes?”

“Nope.”

“How about...”

Their game was interrupted as their flight was announced on the P.A.

Spike got up and grabbed the bag that held their reading material. “Guess we’ll have to continue later, luv. We’ve got to get in line.”

***

After they boarded the plane, both contentedly sat themselves down in 1st class. Spike grabbed the window seat, wanting to be in charge of the blind. The sun was bound to come up before they reached their destination and he wasn’t eager to be reduced to a pile of dust because of the Slayer’s sick sense of humour. He stretched his legs out and made himself comfy in the large padded seats. Exhaling an unnecessary breath, he grinned. “Sure beats coach, Slayer...”

Buffy looked around nervously. “Spike--do you think you could call me by my real name? I’d rather attract the least attention possible.”

“Sure, pet.”

“Birds?”

Spike opened his eyes, and stared at the young woman. “Come again, pet?”

“Birds--are you afraid of birds?”

“Ah, back to the game, are we? No.”

“Ghosts?”

Snicker. “No...”

“Well, it’s not that funny--I betcha poltergeists can be scary.”

“More like annoying, if you ask me.”

“Fine. Umm... spiders?”

“Er, no... I don’t like them, but I wouldn’t say they frighten me. I’ll make it easier on you, pet. It’s not a thing per se, that scares me.”

“Oh, ok... Aren’t we supposed to take off, or something?”

“They usually make us stew for about 15-20 min. before leaving.” He turned to look at her. “Are you nervous?”

How could she not feel nervous with those blue eyes looking at her? “Yeah, a little.” There was that little voice again... Maybe if you play it coy, he’ll keep looking at you like that. “Actually, a lot. Don’t your ears pop, or something?”

Spike frowned. Why is her pulse beating faster? Don’t fool yourself into thinking it‘s because of you. There’s no way the Slayer’d go for you, you git--get over it already. “Wouldn’t know about the popping, pet. Don’t exactly feel that kind of thing.”

“Oh, yeah. Guess I’ll find out soon enough.”

When the plane started to move, Buffy froze and her hands gripped the armrests. All the stories she’d heard about people’s ears bleeding from the pressure changes came back to her. She tried to even out her breathing--hyperventilating would so not be good right now. Closing her eyes, she tried to relax.

Her eyes jumped open when she felt Spike pry her hand off the armrest. She turned to look at him, but he was staring out the window. She looked down and saw that he had taken her hand in his. She should have been more nervous at having him touch her, but for some reason, his cold touch was reassuring. Exhaling, she closed her eyes and relaxed into her seat.

This wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

***

As far as flights go, theirs was uneventful. No turbulence, no screaming kids, heck--even the movie had run smoothly.

Buffy was slowly drifting back into consciousness as she felt a tugging on her right sleeve. Stretching, she yawned and rubbed her eyes. She turned and saw that Spike was looking out the window. Her eyes grew wide as she noticed that it was daytime and the blind was up.

Spike must have read her thoughts. Chuckling, he reassured her. “’S cloudy out--no big bad sunshine to burn me. Look down--we’re flying over land. You can see the houses.” He pulled at her sleeve again, inviting her to look for herself.

As she leaned over him to look out, the blonde vampire realized that he hadn’t counted on having her pressed up against him. He’d expected her to glance quickly and to keep her distance. He hadn’t expected her to sit on his lap and squeal like a ten year-old, wiggling in delight. Shifting, he tried to readjust the growing bulge in his pants, without her noticing.

The Slayer, however, was too entranced in the patterns the tiny households made to notice her companion’s discomfort. Nose pressed to glass, she squirmed again, trying to get more comfortable.

This time, Spike couldn’t bite back a moan. Bloody hell, can’t she feel that?! He was about to suggest that they trade seats when she grew very still.

Something hard was pressing into Buffy’s thigh. Her first assumption was that Spike had managed to carry some sort of weapon onto the plane; she wouldn’t put it past the bleached vampire to pull something stupid like that. When she heard the moan, though, she knew all too well what it was. And she knew what was causing it: she was. She chided herself. Stupid, stupid! You’re wiggling on his lap, for crying out loud! Why not just straddle him and give him a big sloppy kiss? Her devious inner voice retorted. Yeah, you’re causing it and you’re enjoying it, in some twisted way. You’re far away from Giles, your mom and the Scoobies. No one here to judge you--heck, no one here to know. What’s a little fun between vamp and Slayer?

The young blonde gulped and turned to look at the peroxide vamp. When her eyes met his, she shivered at the undisguised lust reflected in their blue depths. She licked her lips--why was her mouth so dry all of a sudden? “I... um...”

Spike wanted to take her then and there. Sod tact, he thought to himself, sod the 70 other blighters sitting around us... He wanted to feel her warmth surround him, hear her scream his name as she peaked, see her all sweaty and dishevelled... Instead, he opted to be the one to ease their discomfort. “How ’bout we change seats eh, ducks? You’ll get a better view and you’ll probably be a bit more comfy than you are sitting on my lap.” He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her response.

Buffy was tempted to decline. In a strange way, she found their proximity comforting. However, she could only guess at how awkward it must be for him. “Sure--if you don’t mind...” She shimmied a little, partly to give him room to move, partly to tease him a little, and moved out of the way.

In a liquid move, Spike moved from his seat to the Slayer’s. He wasn’t sure, but he’d swore she was playing him--no way did she need to wiggle her butt like that just for a seat change. He was relieved when the pilot’s voice came on to ask that they fasten their belts. He felt a stirring in his gut as the thought of returning home hit him. Prodigal son, he wasn’t...

The plane began its descent towards their destination. Nervous once again, Buffy let her mind fill with the worries of a novice flyer. What if the landing wheels don’t come out? What if the lights aren’t on, on the landing strip? What if a thick fog rolls out just as we’re landing?

Her breath caught, her pulse quickened, and she did the only thing that she knew would calm her: she slipped her hand into Spike’s.

To say that her action took her companion by surprise would be an exaggeration--after how she’d handled the take-off, he’d sort of expected this from the young woman; also, landings were often harder to take for first-time flyers. To say that her action took her by surprise was an understatement. How quickly had he turned from a threat to her life to the thing that kept her fear at bay? No, not the *thing*, her little voice announced, the *man*...

She peered at him slyly, out of the corner of her eye, expecting to see him either staring at her in surprise, or leering at her like she’d invited him for a quick roll in the aisle. However, his gaze remained steadfastly focussed away from her, although she could see the corner of his mouth twitch.

Spike finally turned to look at her. What was that look on his face? She was used to seeing anger, disgust, sarcasm (he had the eye roll of a teenager down pat), derision, but this look he gave her was different; it seemed to speak of... friendship?

He smiled at her and squeezed her hand reassuringly; still smiling, he turned back to whatever it was that had previously held his attention.

Buffy let out the breath she didn’t know she had been holding and relaxed in her seat. Yup. Friendship it is... She didn’t think anything could ever phase her again, as long as he was beside her.

Author's Note: Hey guys--I know some of you are wondering why I'm only posting two chapters a week when I have so many written. I want to keep posting at regular intervals, but my writing right now is slower than heck (teething baby). If I post all the chapters right away, you might not see anything for at least a month and I'd like to avoid that.
Anyway, please go and read--and, as usual, review. I need some pick-me-ups to counter the fussy baby :)