The girl was clad only in a hot pink g-string as she gyrated to the canned music that boomed from the jukebox in the corner. She was doing an excellent job of selling herself as she swiveled her hips to the beat of old disco music. Spike stopped only for a few moments to watch the brunette, admiring the jiggle of her generous breasts as she enticed her audience. She winked at Spike, and he smiled then shrugged his refusal before he turned to the bar. The girl was beautiful, but she wasn’t Buffy. He’d leave the stripper to the attention of the dozen or so men, some Americans, who were sitting at various tables around the stage.
A bottle of his favorite beer was placed on the bar before he could even take a seat on the rickety stool. Borde del Paraiso was a place he frequented often. It was in the middle of the red light district of Tijuana, filled with locals, tourists wanting a walk on the dark side, and vamps looking for easy meals. Arnie, the owner, didn’t know Spike’s entire story, but knew enough to welcome the Englishman in their midst. Even the sight of the blonde sent the thieves, and murderers running in the other direction.
Spike took a long drink before acknowledging the overweight man who was the unlikely owner of a drinking establishment in the area. He was an American, that who after fleeing from a burglary rap in Oklahoma, had settled in Tijuana. Despite his past, Arnie was a reasonable good guy. If you minded your business, his business, and didn’t hassle his girls too much, then you were okay in his books. Which only meant that he looked the other way while you ripped off someone other than him.
“Somebody is looking for you, hombre,” Arnie said, leaning on his beefy forearms against the bar. “Some black man with a beautiful senorita. Far as I know, no one said nothing about you and the little girl you’ve got stashed up at your house.”
Nodding, Spike stood as he threw some cash Arnie’s way. It wasn’t to pay for the drink, but for the information and the apparent word to not let on about their local walker de fantasma, or Ghost Walker, as they called him. In a place filled with superstitions, the vampire had become a legend with his night walking ways, and his protection of the locals. Spike knew about this, and tried to build it up as much as he could. It was safer for him that way. He just hoped that Robin and Faith weren’t going to screw up the life he’d created for himself here.
Of all the people for the Scoobies to send after them it would have to be the two who hated him the most. It seemed a visit to Paloma, a Curandera, was in order to make sure that the protection spell around Buffy was still in place. Spike always knew that they might be able to find him, but he could hide his house and the Slayer from those searching for her. One day she would want to return to them, but until then they needed to leave her be.
Spike sniffed the air outside the bar, searching the air for any immediate fear, but there was nothing more than the usual anxiousness from the newcomers searching for cheap thrills. For the moment, he could protect what was his before hitting the cemeteries and alleys and the trouble that always seemed to be lurking in their darkness.
The axe head was shiny as if it had been polished for hours. It looked almost new. But it wasn’t. The shaft was worn down so that its grip was comfortable in even her petite hand. And if only visible to black light, Buffy knew that it carried the blood of many deaths on it. A dark history to a piece of wood and a hunk of metal.
Buffy tenderly traced the length with her fingertips before clutching the head with the strength of her grip. Once this very weapon would have been one of her favorites. Used nightly in her calling, but now it was as foreign to her as her very self. Lost somewhere in the ‘should be’s’ and doing things the proper way, she’d forgotten who Buffy was. It wasn’t until Spike fucked her again, bringing every part of her body to life, that she felt the very void that had sucked away her spirit.
If only she could pick up the phone and call Willow, or even Dawn, but they wouldn’t understand. They would only tell her to come home. Buffy sighed and sat up in bed. She held the phone in her hand debating whether to turn it on and call someone. As soon as she did though, the tracking device would go off, and they would find her. It was a useful tool in finding Slayers in trouble, but when you didn’t want to be found it was hell.
“You can’t call them,” Buffy muttered to herself. “They wouldn’t understand, and I sure don’t know what I want.”
Except to be with Spike…
It was the only thing she was sure of.
A hundred plus years, and there’s only one thing I’ve ever been sure of: you.
The whole world could fall apart again, and this time they would go down together. A few tears slipped down her cheeks as she thought about the vampire who loved her so much, and she wondered why he did.
Candles flickered around the altar in the back room of Paloma’s house. This is where she saw her patients or clients if she chose to care for them. Spike stared down at the objects on the altar. Some stayed the same, others changed as the seasons passed. Religious objects, herbs, photos, were all represented there, and he was surprised to see a new addition of a stake. He ran his finger over it lightly wondering where it came from.
“I had a dream,” Paloma said, slipping silently into the room. “Dreams of the vampires, of their blood dripping upon the streets of Tijuana, and of the small slip of a girl who stopped them.” She made the mark of the cross in front of her chest. “Except it cost her everything that she held important. I pray for her and burn herbs to protect her.”
“Who told you?” Spike asked, with a growl. It seemed the one person he thought he could trust had already broken the vow of secrecy between them. “Have you betrayed me?” He never stopped to consider what he was admitting with his accusations. Panic was racing through him, making him wonder how he was going to get Buffy out of town safely. And the realization that this was his home now filling him with a regret that he might have to leave it.
“No one, child, no one,” Paloma responded, coming closer so she could pat Spike’s hand. “I know things, see things, you know this. You are safe because of what you have given me. You protected my granddaughter from that evil man. Make him go away so she didn’t become the cheap puta that he was trying to make her. My loyalty is yours.”
“Thank you,” Spike said, relaxing. He captured the Curandera’s hands, squeezing them. “She needs to be protected. They have come to take her back.”
“She wants to stay with you, Si?”
“She wants to be free,” Spike whispered. He looked away as he swallowed back the emotions that were threatening to overtake him. “She’s so lost, abuelita. It’s like her soul has slipped away.”
“It hasn’t, William,” Paloma said, cupping his cheek with one hand then patting his chest with the other. “You carry it with you. She trusted you to take care of it for her until the two of you found each other again.”
It was crazy, but he broke out in a grin. Someone was validating their relationship besides them. It was also very sobering, because he knew that if Buffy would ever have a chance to fulfill her dreams; it was resting on his shoulders. A scary thought for a vampire who’d spent a hundred years living without a conscience. Now, every move he made could make or break the woman that he loved. He sighed.
“I know,” he told her. “I’m just scared that I’m going to screw everything up…as usual.”
“Just love her,” Paloma said. “And don’t worry, child, as long as she wishes to remain hidden then she will be. No one will be able to take her away from you.”
“Thank you,” Spike answered, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “You’ve given me so much.”
Paloma had given him the hope he needed to continue caring for Buffy. It was with a grin that he left to do his patrolling.
Unable to sleep, Buffy left the bed, dressing in silk boxer pajamas before wandering out to the living room. The house was warm, but not uncomfortably so in the darkness that permeated the room. She didn’t turn a light on, but waited until her eyes adjusted before starting to cross toward the kitchen.
The red and green lights from Spike’s computer stopped her. She nibbled on her lower lip while she contemplated whether to succumb to the lure of its call. According to Spike there was internet service. She could check her emails; see if there was anything important there. She wondered though if Willow would be able to track her down if she signed in to her email account. Finally she sat down in the chair in front of it, ran her fingers over the cool plastic of the mouse, and then let her hand settle on it before clicking onto the internet.
Would there be news reports of a missing Slayer? Headlines announcing her kidnapping by Spike, and the subsequent search for her by her distraught family and friends. Then she laughed at the fanciful thought. She wasn’t that important. Not to the world. At the best she was considered indispensable to only a few people. She hoped she wasn’t worrying them, more particularly Dawn, too much. If there was a way she could get a message to her without giving them a chance to find her.
Without realizing it, she ran her fingers over her forehead, as she considered the absurdity of her situation. She was a grown woman, but yet she was frightened of getting into trouble for running away from home. Why couldn’t they just respect her decisions and the desire to make a life with Spike? Because they didn’t understand. No, it was because she never forced them to listen to her after learning of the supposed deaths of Spike and Angel. She had no one to blame but herself.
Buffy sat back in the chair, taken back by her realization; she considered where she needed to go from there. But how did you know where to go, if she didn’t know what she wanted, or even who she was.
Already four vampires down, Spike was whistling as he strode along the cobblestone path of the cemetery. Trees on either side of the path left it lying mostly in shadow. Not that the vampire needed anything to light his way. Amber eyes could make out every crack and ridge in the ancient trail.
It had been a good night. The spot of violence worked the edge off of his restlessness. Now, he felt better except for where a fist had connected with his rib cage. It was of no importance though, because for the first time since he’d picked up Buffy, his heart and body were in sync. Buffy was safe, in love with him, their future was protected, and he’d been able to beat the hell out of an angry vamp that didn’t want to die. He’d won though. Just like he planned on winning the future he wanted with his girl.
Suddenly, a chill ran down his spine, and he stumbled. Straightening up, he continued to whistle as he continued down the same path. But all of his senses were trained on figuring out who was following him. He already knew there were two of them, one female, and they were human. His suspicions were confirmed when the breeze came from behind him and the scent of Faith and Robin wafted to him. He sighed as he turned around to wait for them to catch up. He figured that he may as well get the initial confrontation over with. There was no fear that they would try to stake him because they would never find Buffy that way.
“It took you this long to find me,” Spike said, with a smirk gracing his face. They still stood in the shadows but he could see them. Had they forgotten he was a vampire? “You must be slipping.”
“Where is Buffy?” Faith asked, stepping out into the moon lit path first. Her body was coiled tight in anticipation of a fight. Hands flexing as she waited to see whether she or Spike would resort to a physical conversation. Her eyes flicked over him, the scorn evident as she returned to meet his steady gaze.
Spike didn’t really care what the little bint did. Just as long as she left them alone.
“She doesn’t want you to find her,” Spike replied. “So, why don’t you and your pet return to LA where you belong?”
“Not going without Buffy,” Robin said, coming to stand behind Faith. “We were sent to find her and we will.”
“Didn’t you hear the woman?” Spike asked. “She wants to be with me, not you and your little do gooders anymore.” He sniffed, gave them one last scathing look, before turning away.
“And I told you we’re not leaving without her,” Robin insisted, grabbing onto Spike’s arm.
It was a mistake, because Spike retaliated by flinging the other man flying into the nearest tree. Robin bounced off, rolling in the grass before he hopped back onto his feet. He charge toward Spike, but the vampire was already tired of this meaningless gesture of manliness. Spike had already bested Robin once and didn’t need to prove anything. He leaped upwards to land on the top of the nearest marble tomb, and then laughed as Robin had to stumble to a stop. Leaning against the carved angel over the entry, he watched Faith and Robin recover.
“Don’t even bother to try and follow me,” Spike said. “I’ll be gone before you can catch me. You can try if you’re really up to a folly of wasting time and breath.” He shrugged. “This is the last time I’m going to say this, Buffy is with me because she wants to be, and it’s where she’s staying until she decides differently. Good night.”
Not needing anything more, he took off, leaping onto the roof of the mausoleum next to his current perch. He didn’t look back to see if they were following. They knew it wouldn’t be easy, and would take some time to regroup and consult the Scoobies. Tonight he and Buffy were still safe.
Despite his confidence that he wouldn’t be bothered anymore that evening, Spike returned to town, mixing with the crowds on Avenida Revolucion. He cut through a couple of the strip clubs, before heading to his car parked behind The Edge. On the drive home, he kept checking the review mirror to make sure that no one was following him. By the time he traveled down his driveway, he was wound tight, and had to force himself to take a deep breath to expel the nervousness leftover from his encounter.
Buffy was waiting for him, and he didn’t want her to know that they were looking for her. Maybe tomorrow he would tell her, but not tonight. He jogged into the house, letting the door slam behind him.
“Buffy, Buffy,” he called out. “Here kitty, kitty,” he joked as he peeked in the bedroom. It was empty, and he turned to search the rest of the house. But he already knew she wasn’t in the house. She hadn’t been gone long though. He followed her scent through the room until he saw the open french doors in the kitchen.
The beach was empty except for the woman sitting with her feet in the gentle lapping waves upon the shore. Buffy sat staring off into the horizon. Her arms were holding tight to her drawn up knees. It was only the slight straightening of her back that gave any indication that she knew he was there. Other than that she didn’t move until he sat beside her and pulled her back against him. Then she sagged, letting her body mold to his, as he wrapped his arms around her waist.
“Spike?”
“Yes, Luv?”
“Will you help me figure out who I’m supposed to be?”
Spike kissed her temple, before nuzzling his cheek against the softness of her hair. “Yeah, I can do that.”
to be continued….