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Darkness had already descended over Los Angeles when the pair of runaway blonds finally settled on somewhere to stay for the night. They’d managed to find a cheap motel just off the highway. It was one of those places where it was easy to remain anonymous and therefore reasonably safe. No one asked questions in these kinds of joints.

They were both aware of how imperative it was to avoid any of Ethan’s goons that might come chasing after them if they wished to stay alive.

Spike ordered Buffy to stay in the car while he went inside to deal with the room and she nodded vaguely, refusing to meet his eyes. She didn’t have the strength to argue. Even in the darkness she could make out the bruising around the base of his neck. Bruising that had been put there by his father.

By the man she killed.

Screwing her eyes shut, Buffy leaned her head back against the seat and huffed out a cleansing breath. Her pulse was still racing from what had happened, her heart pumping her tainted blood wildly through her veins. But her mind was slow and lethargic, still trying to come to terms with what had occurred.

Her life had changed so dramatically during the past week that she could barely comprehend it. Every time she thought that nothing else could supersede the last event, she was inevitably proven wrong.

However, she’d never imagined that she’d be a murderer.

It almost didn’t matter that Ethan was a violent, sadistic gangster. That seemed irrelevant. All the teenager could focus on was the fact that she’d stolen away another human being’s life. It eclipsed all of the other pain that had infiltrated her life since her father’s betrayal.

Tears sprang to her eyes at the thought of what she’d done and she pushed the heels of her hands into her eye sockets to hold them back. No good could come of crying right now and she didn’t want Spike to return and find her bawling again either.

The sudden opening of the car door startled her and Buffy’s head snapped up. Spike peered in, his eyes unintentionally raking over her exposed legs. “I’ve got us the room, pet,” he informed her, not quite meeting her eyes.

With a tired sigh she climbed out of the car and followed him up a flight of rickety metal steps to the second floor of rooms. The old rusty key turned in the lock with a squeal that caused both the blondes to wince, and Spike ushered her inside. The room was small but functional even though it probably wasn’t the cleanest place she’d even seen. However, as soon as she clapped eyes on the bed she clenched her teeth together and shook her head vehemently.

“Oh no!” she huffed, staring at the double bed in front of them. Stomping her foot she turned to Spike, eyes suddenly blazing fire. “One bed?! Are you kidding?”

Spike licked his lips and cracked his knuckles, trying to rein in his emotions. As soon as the guy behind the desk had told him that they were all out of twins, he’d known that Buffy was going to lose her mind. However, all he wanted to do was fall asleep and he didn’t need a whining teenager getting on his last nerve right now.

“It’s all they had,” he informed her with faux calmness. “There’re no twins left. So you can either get your arse in that bed or you can sleep on the floor with the rats and the roaches. Up to you, Goldilocks. No skin off my nose if you prefer to kip in the filth.”

“I’m so not sleeping on the floor,” she bit back. “You’re the man…kinda…so you should sleep on the damn floor.”

“I’m the one who’s forking out the dosh for this room, you mad bint.”

“I don’t know what that even means but you’re still the one who’s sleeping on the ground.”

“Thought you birds were all about bloody girl power these days so why don’t you sleep on the soddin’ floor?”

“Ugh, can’t you talk in English?”

“I speak it but apparently you’re too brainless to understand it!”

“Hey, I’m totally not some dumb blonde!”

“Yeah, really going overboard with proving that, aren’t you, pet?” he mocked.

“At least I’m not a first-class asshole!” Buffy yelled. Her eyes were shooting fire at him. She had redefined the phrase: ‘if looks could kill.’

“No, you’re just a first-class bitch!”

And for some reason that was when it all became too much and the emotions overtook her.

From Spike’s point of view it was like watching a train wreck happen in slow motion. Buffy’s face crumpled and tears started leaking from her eyes. Before he knew it she’d melted to ground, huge sobs wracking through her delicate frame. Her skinny arms wrapped around herself protectively but she still seemed so vulnerable. He was starting to get used to Buffy’s emotional outbursts now and he didn’t exactly blame her for her tense emotional state.

He was still in shock himself from the fact that his father was most probably dead. It hadn’t quite sunk in yet but it did niggle at him that he didn’t feel even the barest smidgen of regret at the older man’s passing.

However, he silently cursed his father for bringing a smart, sassy young girl like Buffy to her knees. Almost without any thought he started forward and took the girl into his arms. The sight of her crying tugged at some kind of primal instinct within him. He wanted to protect her, hold her, and assure her that everything would be alright.

As she felt his strong arms surround her she stiffened at first and he thought she might throw him off but instead she pulled him closer. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, heedless of the tears cascading down his skin and soaking the collar of his T-shirt. The blonde sought all of the solace that she could from the warm body wrapped around her.

His own eyes teared up as he silently sobbed out his distress. As much as Buffy had found herself as the victim of betrayal, Spike had similarly suffered. First he’d found Drusilla writhing underneath Angelus which had confirmed many of his worst suspicions about his girlfriend. Then he’d found out his father was doing the horizontal mambo with the woman too. Any trust he’d had for humanity had been sucked out of him during this past week.

The only thing he couldn’t figure out was why he felt so safe when he was in Buffy’s arms. He couldn’t trust anyone anymore and yet she was like a safe haven for him. It didn’t even matter that he was being totally unmanly with all the crying he was doing right about now. That was irrelevant. All that mattered was the feel of her warm body against him, lulling him into a trance of peace.

Spike wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, each unable and unwilling to break the contact. It felt like an eternity since either of them had been truly held by another human being so they savored it with their souls. It didn’t matter that they both still claimed to hate each other, because they were able to save each other in that moment.

Buffy was the first one to break away, her cheeks pink with embarrassment as she smiled apologetically at Spike. “I’m not usually like this,” she told him, burrowing deeper into the leather of his coat that still hung around her shoulders.

“I suppose you’re entitled to a bit of a snoop and pry after what you’ve been through, pet,” he said understandingly, hoping that she hadn’t noticed his own quiet weeping.

Buffy looked at him askance. She expected him to mock or deride her but his kindness was totally unexpected. Their eyes met and she found herself lost in the deep intensity of his gaze. Never before had she met someone with such expressive eyes. Every emotion flitted through those eyes and they seemed to pull her in as if they were hypnotizing her somehow. Her own gaze lowered slightly and she found herself staring at his pouty lips. They looked so soft, so kissable. It would be easy just to lean in and…

A cough brought her out of her trance as Spike cleared his throat. She immediately jumped back as if she’d been scalded and silently chastised herself for what she’d been thinking. Had she actually been tempted to kiss Spike Rayne? Even the thought of it was mere insanity. Maybe that was it! Maybe all of this stress had driven her totally crazy. Of course it had to be that because she was convinced that those kinds of thoughts would never cross her mind under any other kind of circumstances.

“Want me to get you a coffee or something?” Spike asked, eager to break the tension in the air. He had noticed the strange, yet lustful look that Buffy was flashing at him moments earlier and every sinew in him had been screaming at him to take advantage of that situation. However, something stopped him. He didn’t know what it was, and he was sure he would curse himself for it later, but he couldn’t take advantage of this girl after she’d been through so much heartache.

God, could he be developing actual morals? He blanched slightly at the thought.

“Uh, yeah, coffee would be great if you can find a machine.” Buffy smiled at him but he could tell that it was forced.

“I think I saw one just outside.” Spike climbed to his feet and scratched the back of his neck nervously. “I’ll be right back.”

He turned and flew out of the room, not even giving Buffy the chance to appreciate how tight his buns looked in his fitted jeans.

As she watched him leave, the blonde puffed out a heavy breath. The world wasn’t making any sense at the moment. Spike had comforted her and then she’d thought about engaging in kissage with him. That alone seemed to suggest that she’d actually gone insane and created a fantasyland inside of her warped little brain.

Except that this was real. All of it was real…the bad and the worse.

However, she wasn’t sure which category Spike was falling into right now.

Of course, she still hadn’t forgiven or forgotten his actions on their first meeting. Despite that fact that he’d inadvertently saved her from Ethan’s sleazy paws, he’d almost emulated his father’s actions in forcing her to have sex with him. But he hadn’t actually done it and he claimed that he wouldn’t really have gone through with it.

And she had to admit she did feel gratitude toward him for saving her from the brothel. The blonde shuddered to think what would have happened if it hadn’t been for Spike. That disgusting pervert who had won the auction would no doubt have taken her against her will.

Spike was a mass of contradictions so the fact that he’d come charging in didn’t actually surprise. What did surprise was his tenderness toward her since he’d saved her. Snuggling into his coat she allowed herself to momentarily enjoy his scent. However much she told herself that she disliked him, something about his manly aroma comforted her.

With a weary sigh she climbed off of the ground and slipped onto the bed.

She wasn’t sure how she felt about sharing it with him. In truth she would have preferred if he’d slept on the ground but when she thought about it without the filter of anger and emotion she realized that would be cruel.

A little less cruelty in the world could only be a good thing even if it meant having to endure Spike’s naked skin against her body.

She shivered at the thought.

The blonde was pulled from her reverie as the door opened and Spike came padding back into the room.

Buffy looked up, her eyes red and puffy, when he returned. She sniffled but gave him a grateful, watery smile as he approached with a steaming cup of liquid.

He handed the cup of coffee to Buffy and she slowly sipped on it, but didn’t take her eyes away from the blank wall. She couldn’t make eye contact with him.

“I put a splash of brandy in it for you too,” he told her, gesturing to the flask his pulled from the back pocket of his jeans. “Should help you feel better.”

“Must be magic brandy,” she retorted wryly, sorrow coating her voice.

“All brandy is magic brandy,” he joked but the comment fell flat when she didn’t even crack a smile.

“Do you think there’s a hell?” she asked suddenly, almost inaudibly.

Spike frowned at the question wondering where it came from. And then he realized. She was worried that she would end up in hell. He could tell that what she’d done to his father was truly hitting her now. Although it probably wasn’t just that. He would wager it was most likely an accumulation of all the suffering since she’d become property of the Raynes. No doubt that killing someone would have a detrimental effect on your psyche though.

“I think hell is right here on this earth, to be honest, pet,” he responded glumly. “I see it every day out there. The world is our hell and we’re the bloody demons.”

“Do you think I’m a demon? What I did was evil right?” Her voice was tinged with hysteria as she talked.

“What happened back at the manor, it wasn’t your fault, love,” he murmured quietly.

She didn’t respond, didn’t move, didn’t blink so Spike pushed on with his reassurances.

“Ethan deserved it, you know. He would have done worse to the both of us if you hadn’t slammed that bloody thing into him.” Spike assured her before chuckling wryly. “Killed by a statue of himself. How’s that for soddin’ irony with a bloody self-centered ponce like my Da?”

“I guess it is ironic,” she said with a little humor seeping into her voice.

“I’d be dead as a dodo if you hadn’t done it. Much as I hate to admit it, you saved my life, pet. My Da wouldn’t have stopped if you hadn’t…” He let his voice trail off. He didn’t need to rehash what she’d done.

“Doesn’t mean I like you,” she assured him, although her voice lacked any true heat.

“Feeling’s mutual, love,” he told her with a slight smile. “And I guess we’re even now. Both saved each other, haven’t we? Maybe we don’t make such a bad team.”

Buffy placed the cardboard cup down on the nightstand and turned to face him. Her bloodshot eyes met his and she licked her dry lips.

All the torment that she’d recently encountered had taken its toll on the teenager. Her hair was lank and lifeless, her skin dull. Spike wondered if she’d ever get the spark back. Maybe it was still there but buried under layers of crap. Crap that he’d helped to heap onto her.

“Don’t you care that your dad’s dead?” she finally croaked out past her cracked lips. It was a question that she’d been wondering almost since it happened. She knew that she hadn’t really been able to grieve for her own father and it struck a chord with her that Spike didn’t seem upset by his dad’s death.

Spike shrugged and opened his mouth to reply. However, he snapped it shut again as he actually considered her question.

Growing up Ethan had never really been much of a father to him. After his mother had died, Spike had been left to bring himself up most of the time. The only one who ever really cared about him was their cook and maid, and Ethan’s abusiveness drove even her away eventually. When Spike finally reached an age where he was ‘useful’ to Ethan, his father inducted him into the family business.

But all that had brought him was pain.

There had never been anything good inside of Ethan. The man was pure evil, inside and out. He wasn’t someone who could have ever been redeemed because he took too much pleasure from other people’s pain.

The world was better off without Ethan in it.

“My Da was a bloody bastard,” he admitted. “He used and abused everyone around him. He loved to watch people hurting. It was his only joy. So no, I can’t care that he’s dead, if he’s dead. We can’t know for sure, love. And we can’t take any chances just in case he didn’t bite it.”

“God,” she sighed. “How did I get here? Just over a week ago I was a normal girl, worrying about what to wear to school or what shade to color my hair. I never even thought about murder or gangsters or…brothels.”

Spike didn’t miss the flinch that her reference to the brothel caused and he endeavored to catch her eyes. “You can talk about it, you know, pet.”

Buffy looked at him inquisitively. “About what?”

“About…what happened when you were with Gwen.”

Buffy stiffened and looked away. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Summers, I know you’re lying to me. I’ve seen what that place does to people so you can’t kid a kidder, pet.”

“If you already know what it’s like then we don’t need to talk about it.”

“Fine,” he said, feeling hurt at her refusal to open up to her. He knew that it was an irrational reaction, but Buffy had taken center stage in his thoughts since they first met and it irritated him that she wasn’t falling into his arms and confiding her deepest thoughts like fantasy-Buffy did. “You’re not the only one who’s ever lost anything, you know?”

“I know…you’ve lost your Dad.”

“I wasn’t talking about him,” Spike bit back bitterly. “I was talking about my…never mind!”

“You’re talking about your Mom,” she realized softly. “What happened to your Mom?” she asked, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.

As soon as her words hit the air Spike’s demeanor totally changed. His posture stiffened and his eyes darkened. He shook her hand off of him violently, glaring at her as if she was poison. With a nasty shudder, Buffy realized he was reminding her of the man he’d been the very first night they met.

“That’s none of your bloody business,” he growled, a warning tone lacing his voice. “You don’t get to ask questions like that.”

“I didn’t mean…” Buffy couldn’t understand the violent change in his mood. She realized that talking about his mother had to have been a sensitive subject for him. But she couldn’t help but think his reaction was a little more of an overreaction.

“No one ever bloody well means anything! You’re a bloody stupid little bint who’s getting too nosy for her own good. Do you think we’re sharing here? Like little best buddies? Want to paint each other’s nails and braid each other’s hair after we finish sharing our dirty little secrets? Huh? You’re nothing to me! So stay out of my head.”

“I just…”

“Don’t! I don’t want to hear it. In fact, I don’t want to bloody say another word about anything. Just go to sleep, alright.”

“Where are you going?” she asked quietly, fear embedding itself into her chest when he headed toward the door.

“I need to get some air,” he replied gruffly, refusing to look at her.

He failed to hear her response because by the time she choked it out he was already outside, the door slamming heavily behind him. Of course he knew how harsh he’d been with her but he couldn’t help but think that if he’d told her about his mother then she’d know just how big of a failure he was. Whenever he thought about the woman who gave birth to him it provoked a whole host of emotions within him and none of them were very positive.

Leaning on the railing outside of the room, Spike puffed out the stale air from his lungs. It hurt to breathe right now but he relished the pain. Feeling like the biggest wimp in the world he laid his head in his hands and bawled out the pain. Fat tears ran down his cheeks dripping onto the iron railings.

His shaky hands came up to wipe them away as he heard a sound behind him.

“Are you okay?”

The sound of Buffy’s voice made the tears flow faster. He was starting to feel like a first class pussy boy around this girl. All of his life he’d been pounded over the head with the importance of ‘acting like a man’ and ‘never showing weakness.’

Well all of that had turned on its head hadn’t it?

“Go back inside,” he ordered her weakly. “I’ll be in soon.”

“I’m sorry,” said Buffy, her own voice rough with unshed tears. When she’d seen Spike storm away it had left her feeling bereft. As much as she disliked him, it occurred to her in that moment that he was all that she had.

Everyone had left her and by default she was left with Spike. If he left her too then she wasn’t sure what she’d do. In truth she wasn’t sure that she was strong enough to survive alone.

Spike sighed, the mist of irrational anger dissipating at her apology. “It’s not your fault, love. I have the tendency to overreact to that stuff.”

“I know how hard it is,” she sighed sadly. “I lost my Mom too.”

He turned around, their eyes meeting in a gesture of unity, and nodded. That one look said more than words ever could. Something indefinable changed between them in that moment. She graced him with a watery smile that he returned. “Thanks, love.” His voice was sincere but exhausted. “You go in now and I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Really?” She looked like a lost little girl. Apparently all of her pride was absent without leave for the moment, so she just wanted to be reassured that she was safe.

“I promise.”

Satisfied that he wasn’t going to leave her, she turned and went back inside the motel room. Spike watched her retreating back. She was still clad in his duster, the leather wrapped around her slight frame like a protective skin. It heartened him that she felt so safe in wearing his coat. He knew that he was probably reading way too much into it, but when the coat hung against her silken skin it was the next best thing to being allowed to touch that creamy expanse of skin himself.

The thoughts of about Buffy’s naked body caused a familiar stirring in his nether regions. Since the first night he met her, she had been able to arouse him without even trying. After she was shipped off to the brothel the thoughts continued to spiral and grow embedding themselves deeply within him. However, she hadn’t been within his physical reach until now.

Now, having her could become a reality.

Spike reached down to adjust his turgid cock. The zipper of his jeans was biting into the delicate skin. If Buffy wasn’t waiting for him inside might have just whipped out his pleasure organ and had some fun right there in the open air.

However, even though it might be torture, he would rather return inside. Being surrounded by her scent was worth the sexual frustration. If he was lucky she might star as the subject of one of his wet dreams.

He was suddenly feeling exceptionally pussy whipped.

When he finally returned inside, Buffy was curled up dozing underneath the sheets. She’d finally stripped off his coat and left it hanging over the sole chair that occupied the dingy room. His mouth watered as he realized that she was only wearing skimpy underwear and tatters of her ‘hooker’ clothes underneath the thin cotton sheets.

He knew that Buffy hadn’t wanted to share the bed with him, and she’d clearly requisitioned it for herself. However, there wasn’t a chance in hell that he was sleeping on the dusty stained carpet. He might be on his way to whipped, but he wasn’t that whipped yet.

With a sigh he stripped off his own T-shirt. For a moment he considered removing his jeans too, as he usually preferred to sleep without the constraints of clothing. Somehow he didn’t think Buffy would be too happy to find his naked cock nestled between her butt cheeks when she woke up though so he decided to leave his bottom half clothed. The peroxide blond climbed in next to the sleeping girl, making sure not to wake her.

In her sleep Buffy shifted onto her side, her hand coming to rest over his chest. Taking a liberty he knew could get him a kick in the balls, Spike pulled the sleeping girl into his arms and held her tightly, drawing comfort from her proximity. His nose nuzzled her neck, reveling in the Buffy-like fragrance that he found there. She smelled like sunshine and goodness. He’d been dreaming of holding her like this ever since that first night they met.

It was strange but when he held Buffy in his arms the pain seemed to subside. She was like a human analgesic that soothed his heartache. Even on the few occasions that Drusilla had allowed him the privilege of snuggling up against her it had never felt this…right.

Burying his face in Buffy’s sweet smelling golden locks he finally allowed himself the peace of slumber.





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