Part II
After their run in with Faith and Angel, Spike had practically dragged Buffy back to the abandoned house. He was furious, though she wasn’t sure whom he was angrier with. Charging through the front door, he went straight to the bedroom, returning a moment later with her duffel in hand.
“We’re leaving.”
Buffy stayed where she stood in the front room of the house, no intention of going anywhere. “Spike,” she tried, hoping that remaining composed would calm him down.
“Not gonna work this time, love. ‘Ve done everything you asked. Traveled the bloody West Coast to get you here—No, it’s not worth the risk. I won’t let you—“
“Won’t let me?”
“You’re damn right I won’t!” he yelled.
If she didn’t know him as well as she did, she’d be frightened. Which was slightly ridiculous considering what she did know about him, but it made no difference. Spike wouldn’t hurt her, and she knew it.
“You said it was up to me if we came here. That you didn’t care one way or another.”
“That’s right. I didn’t give a bleeding hell about it. Not till they came along. God, I must’ve been a right moron to think she wouldn’t find us—”
“Three days!” Buffy interrupted, hands thrown up, finally losing her cool. “All I need—we need—is three days. After tomorrow night it’ll all be over and we can disappear before they even realize what’s happened—if they ever do.”
“Famous last words, pet.” As Spike stared at her, the fear in his eyes was almost too much. This man, this warrior by her side night after night feared nothing—or almost nothing.
“He won’t find me. Not this fast anyway. We’ll be so far gone by the time he hears about it. If he ever finds out,” she repeated her earlier sentiment.
“That’s a lotta if’s and maybe’s.” For a fraction of a second she thought she saw him relenting. But then the fire returned, a shake of his head bringing him back to the fight at hand. He started marching toward her with a purpose, bag still held in his left hand.
Buffy’d had enough. She hadn’t come all this way just to give up at the first sign of trouble. It wasn’t who she was, and it sure as hell wasn’t who he was.
Sidestepping him at the last second, she had him up against the wall, face pinned to the cool surface. “Little bit of rough play won’t be enough to distract me you know,” he teased her. She eased up a bit so he could turn to face her, quickly using her body to press him back against the wall.
Buffy looked up into his eyes, hers pleading with him to give in. “Don’t leave. I need you here with me.”
He stared back at her. After all this time it still amazed him how vulnerable she could be. “Not leaving ‘less you’re with me you daft bint. Haven’t you heard a word I’ve been saying?”
Spike sighed, bringing a hand up to cup her waist. “’Ve got half a mind to throw you over my shoulder and toss you in my trunk till we get to Mexico.”
“But you won’t ‘cuz you love me,” she teased him, one corner of her mouth rising in amusement.
“No I won’t ‘cuz I’m a stupid, stupid wanker. Loving you’s got nothing to do with it.” And he was a stupid wanker because he’d do anything to see her eyes sparkle like they were now.
Even if it got them both killed.
NEW MEXICO, 2 YEARS EARLIER
It was a warm winter night, plenty of warm bodies to go with it, and Spike was well on his way to being the first ever vampire to get alcohol poisoning. He’d be ashamed of himself if he could find it in him to give a fuck about anything other than her. He’d tell anyone who’d listen how she’d torn his heart out but not literally, the selfish bitch.
He was so depressed he hadn’t eaten a thing all night—wouldn’t have given his empty stomach a second thought if he hadn’t seen her. It was like he could feel her the moment she walked in. He might’ve been shit faced, but his body knew when a slayer was in the vicinity.
He watched from the back corner of the L-shaped bar as she ordered a drink but didn’t take a sip. Holding the glass in her hand, she surveyed the bar until her gaze caught a couple sneaking out the back.
Spike watched her put the drink down, still untouched. He followed her, staggering across the room at a much slower pace, bottle of whiskey firmly held in his hand. Slinking out, he stayed back in the shadows, watching her. To the casual observer she was just a girl, granted a nosy, cock-blocking girl but a girl all the same. But Spike knew different. This girl was all business.
“Didn’t anyone ever warn you not to go into dark alleys with strangers?” she was asking. The boy of the couple opened his mouth to give her a piece of his mind when he was thrown to the ground.
The vampire was no fledgling, but Buffy gave as good as she got. Mid-fight she turned to the stunned co-ed, yelling at him, “What’s wrong with you? Run!”
The momentary distraction gave her opponent the upper hand, and Buffy was thrown back against the wall. Spike thought it was over when Buffy made no move to get up. He thought he was about to see this vampire bag her likely first slayer.
And then Buffy jumped up and rammed a stake through the vampire’s heart.
Somewhere deep down Spike was impressed, but he was far too inebriated to contemplate that. Instead he began clapping loudly, and stepped out of the shadows.
Buffy spun around, immediately returning to a fighter’s stance when she realized another vampire was in the alley.
Spike stepped toward her, and in one of his not so fine moments tripped over a garbage can that crept up out of nowhere. Already infuriated by the mishap, he grew even angrier when Buffy visibly relaxed, not seeing him as a threat.
She could smell the alcohol coming off him in waves, and crinkled her nose in disgust. “Drink much?”
Spike took a swig straight from the bottle that had miraculously survived his fall. “Need a sip, pet? Might make it hurt less.”
Buffy stared at him, contempt flaring in her green eyes.
“Well let’s have on with it, then. Gotta bar stool to get back to.” Spike dropped the bottle onto the ground (the damn thing still didn’t break—what was it made of?) and staggered toward her.
“Nu-uh.” Buffy put up her hands, taking several steps back and away from him.
“What do you mean ‘nu-uh?’” he mimicked her, which was kinda funny when he was trying to be all scary. “It’s what we do. We fight,” he explained, as if she was a small child who didn’t understand.
“Not tonight we don’t. Too easy. Besides, you’ll probably pass out somewhere and come morning you’ll just be a big ol’ pile of dust that reeks like Jack Daniels.”
If Spike hadn’t wanted to rip her throat out before, he certainly did now. “You have no idea—“
“Look, sober up. There’s always tomorrow,” she told him, turning on her heel to walk out of the alley.
“And what happens tomorrow?” Spike called after her.
“I kill you,” she called back as she strode away from him.
They’d both had a death wish that night. Both had lost the people they’d loved most in this world. So when Spike found her fighting a losing battle the next night, he felt an inexplicable urge to jump in. He was so disgusted with himself that he rushed off right after he’d ripped the Rendali demon’s heart out.
Every night for the next week he sought her. Each night he told himself it would be her last. But then he’d see her, and something in her called out to him. Deep down she may not have wanted to walk away from those fights but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going down fighting.
Spike rationalized with himself that whoever or whatever she was fighting wasn’t good enough to take her down. If anyone were going to have that honor it would damn well be him!
They settled into a nightly routine of sorts. Spike would follow her, watching from a distance as she sought out the nastiest demons she could find. She always started strong: a well placed kick here, a well-timed duck there. He had no doubt that if her whole heart had been in it, she’d be a force to be reckoned with.
There came a point, though, when she needed his help. On the ninth night, he jumped in just as the hulking demon was closing in on her.
Buffy watched from her spot on the ground as Spike once again inserted himself unnecessarily into the fray. Gritting her teeth, she cursed the blond vampire. Just who the hell did he think he was, crashing her fights every night? Feeling angrier than she had in months, Buffy ripped a metal rod off the side of the building they were currently behind and rammed it through the demon’s back, narrowly missing Spike in the process.
Spike watched in shock as the demon fell to the ground in front of him. Buffy was on him in a flash, pointing her little finger into his chest. “What the hell is your problem?”
“Are you off your bloody rocker? I just saved your ass—what’s your problem?”
Growing angrier by the second, Buffy punched him square in the nose. The force of the blow sent Spike stumbling back. Bringing a hand up to wipe away the blood that dripped from his nostril, he couldn’t contain the grin that spread across his face. “Knew it was in there somewhere.”
“Wha—? Knew what was in where?”
“The fire,” he told her, stepping so close she could feel his cool breath on her face. “All it needed was a spark.”
Suddenly feeling very naked in front of him, Buffy pushed hard against his chest and ran as fast as she could in the opposite direction.
The sound of the shower running was the first thing Spike heard when he woke up a few hours after attempting to derail Buffy’s plans. With a groan he rolled over, the empty space next to him confirming that she was no longer in the bed with him. Knowing that she was in there, wet and naked, had him hardening under the sheet even though they’d spent hours making love that morning.
As he entered the shower, Buffy turned to give him a smile that would melt even the deadest of hearts. He would never tire of seeing that smiled directed at him, and he would do pretty much anything to keep it there.
“I was wondering when you’d be getting up.” She turned back, lathering soap across her chest and arms.
Moving closer his hands found their way to her waist, pulling her back against his hardness. “Bit knackered from all the activity, love.”
Buffy rubbed her bottom against him. “Doesn’t feel like you’re knackered to me.”
With a low growl Spike pinned her up against the tiled wall, lips crashing down to hers as the water sprayed over them. Responding instantly Buffy’s lips moved against his, her kisses almost bruising in their intensity. His hips ground into her core as his mouth left hers and descended on her neck. Head thrown back against the damp tile, she let out a gasp of pleasure as he sucked on the spot he knew drove her wild.
Having had more than enough foreplay mere hours before, Spike hauled her up into his arms, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. Buffy clung to him as he entered her, lips raining kisses down on every inch of his skin she could reach until they met his again.
She cried out his name as he pivoted his hips to hit her just right, stimulating her clit on each upstroke. “Oh, God, yes, Spike! That feels so good,” she murmured into his ear, biting down on the soft lobe at a particularly good thrust.
“That’s it, baby. Can feel you’re almost there.” He hissed as her nails scraped down his back, sure they’d be drawing blood, but not caring in the least. He watched her come apart in front of him, panting and moaning as she climaxed.
Now that he’d taken care of her his hips pounded into her even harder, seeking his own release. He moved one hand from its place on the wall to tangle in her silky blonde hair he loved so much. His thumb traced her cheekbone as he stared up into her face. She stared back, breathing labored, and he knew she’d be tumbling over the edge once more before they were through.
Her gaze broke from his as she cried out, head falling to the crook of his shoulder. This orgasm went on longer than the other, and as she bit down on his shoulder he came with a strangled shout. He thrust up into her, riding out his own orgasm until he stilled, collapsing against her.
The water was growing cold, but neither seemed to notice as they remained entangled against the now cold wall. Finally, after what was only minutes but seemed like a lifetime, he felt her shiver and noticed a trail of goose bumps running along her arm. He moved back, allowing her the room to untangle her legs from his waist as he fiddled with the knobs. When it seemed that the hot water had run out on them he turned the water off completely before stepping out of the shower to find them something to dry off with.
Buffy took the towel he handed to her, ringing out her hair before wrapping it around her. “Thanks,” she said, giving him a kiss before moving into the bedroom. He followed, taking a seat on the bed, towel wrapped firmly around his hips.
“What’s the plan tonight?”
Buffy didn’t respond immediately, taking the time to locate her bra and panties before putting them on. She turned to him clad in only her undergarments and he had to keep his mind on business to avoid the budding arousal she seemed to constantly stir in him.
“We need to find that demon Tara told me about. The um, banana demon,” Buffy responded off-handedly as she shoved on a pair of jeans.
“Banzana demon. Geez, you’d think a slayer vocabulary would’ve come with the package,” he teased, slipping into his own dark jeans. “And while that sounds like a right good time, I meant what’re we gonna do about the slayer and her watcher?”
Buffy zipped up her boots. “I think we might need the sword for the Bonanza demon.”
Spike rolled his eyes, but didn’t correct her this time. He waited until she looked at him and gave her a pointed look. “We go to her or she finds us, don’t really see it playing out any other way.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, Buffy scoffed. “And you’d think being a vampire for over a hundred years, you’d be an expert on avoiding the slayer.”
Fixing her with a hard look he replied, “never was one to avoid the slayer, pet.”
Buffy knew all about how he spent the hundred or so years before he met her. It had scared her at first, but she’d gotten used to the fact that her boyfriend was a reformed slayer of slayers. But she knew why he felt the need to remind her every now and then. While she trusted him implicitly, he didn’t have as much faith in himself as she did. He didn’t want her to ever forget whom she was really choosing to spend her life with.
“Demon first. Pow-wow with watcher second.”
With a nod Spike pulled on his duster, taking his keys out of his pocket. “Big sword or the really big sword?”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Most of you were wondering what Buffy and Spike were doing before they came to Sunnydale. Here's your first glimpse into their pasts - how they met. In case it wasn't clear, Buffy and Spike have never been to Sunnydale before they arrived in Part I. Thanks to everyone who commented on the first installment. I'd love to hear how you think it's progressing! As always, thanks to my wonderful beta Carla.