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Author's Chapter Notes:
As always , my betas rule. Any mistakes are mine, not theirs
Chapter Eleven – They Shoot Horses, Don't They?

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When his brain cleared and Spike was finally able to process something other than the feel of Buffy’s body pressed to his, he looked down and focused on her eyes. They were turbulent, swirling with emotions that Spike had little hope of deciphering. Yet, with nothing more than a slight dilating of pupils and fluttering of dark lashes, they were able to gather up what was left of his rational mind and swallow him whole.

What was it about this woman that seemed to have such a hold on him? He’d like to think it was nothing more than fallout from the time displacement, but he knew better. She’d gotten to him, deep in his gut, long before they were swept here. Drusilla had seen it, and even through his adamant denial, Spike had known, deep down, that something drew him to her. Something more than just bloodlust; more than just the thrill of adding another dead slayer to his resume.

Pulling back a bit, Spike’s hands traveled from their resting place on Buffy’s hips, to grip her upper arms. His first impulse was to push her away, to distance himself from her and the emotions she was stirring in him. However, her smug smile dared him to prove to her once and for all that he was not under her control. Not here. Not now. Damned if he was going to allow his heart to once again turn him into some sniveling mongrel, waiting to be pushed and pulled and taunted at the whim of some woman.

Besides, she was, once again, stomping into the middle of his best laid plans. He’d wanted to talk to Shay alone. He wasn’t sure of it, but it seemed like the old shaman had been avoiding them. Not that he blamed the man, since the first and only time they’d met ended with the introduction of Spike’s fist to the shaman’s jaw. Better to do this man to man and keep the Slayer and her often erupting temper out of it. He certainly didn’t want to talk to the man while Buffy and Katie were mud wrestling in the background. He wasn’t sure what Buffy’s problem with her was, but it would have to wait to be sorted out until after he had his talk with the elusive medicine man.

Spike pulled Buffy flush against him, his own eyes widening at the feel of her breasts pressed to his chest. His voice emerged gruff, almost a growl. “Well, of course, I’ll introduce you . . . Darling.” His eyes moved from hers to look at the young woman with whom he’d been talking with before Buffy had interrupted. “Mrs. Monroe, I’d like to introduce you to my . . . wife, Elizabeth. Elizabeth,” he turned his eyes down to Buffy once again, his eyebrow quirking. “I’d like you to meet Mrs. Munroe . . . Katie.”

As he murmured her name, Spike’s left hand let loose its grip on Buffy’s bicep, his fingers tracing along her arm, down to her hand, where he threaded them through hers. He let his other hand drop free, and he turned her toward the young woman that she seemed so eager to meet, but he kept a tight hold of her one hand, just in case. He wasn’t sure what was running through the Slayer’s brain right now, but he didn’t want to take any chances. She’d already drawn enough unwanted attention.

Buffy continued to exhibit a smile that made a current of nervous energy dash down the length of Spike’s spine. “So nice to meet you, Mrs. Monroe.”

At the calm tone of Buffy’s voice, Spike let loose the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, and he released the grip on her hand.

Katie smiled, reaching up to twine a strand of her long red hair around her finger. “Please, call me Katie.”

“Katie,” Buffy said with a slight nod of her head, her smile never wavering.

The redhead appraised Buffy, from the top of her head to the tip of her toes, before looking her square in the eye. “I was just thanking William for his help yesterday evening. I’m not sure what I would have done without him.”

“Yes.” Buffy drew the word out slowly, pulling her hand free of Spike’s and crossing her arms under her breasts. Her bright, fake smile faded. “Mr. Helpful, that’s my . . . husband.”

Katie smirked, her eyes narrowing. “I hope it wasn’t too much of an imposition.”

Buffy’s jaw clenched. “You—”

“It wasn’t an imposition at all,” Spike inserted, stepping in between the two women. “It was my pleasure. What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t come to the assistance of a lady in distress?”

He shot Buffy a warning look from the corner of his eye as she let out a loud snort.

Katie glanced at Buffy, then back to Spike. As her eyes met his she fluttered her lashes coquettishly. “Why, William, you flatter me.”

“Oh, please—” Buffy began.

Spike whirl about and face the Slayer. “Elizabeth, don’t you need to get back to the wagon?”

Buffy’s mouth fell open.

“I’m sure something there needs tending.” Spike continued. His back to Katie, he spoke slowly, his eyes urging her to listen to the message hidden between his words.

Buffy’s eyes darted from Spike to Katie. Her jaw worked for a second, opening and closing, then she sputtered, “Tending?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Spike nodded, approaching Buffy. “Now run along and I’ll be there shortly. I have somethin' to discuss with Mrs. Monroe.”

“Well, I have somethin' to discuss with you,” Buffy huffed, her face now white with rage.

Spike took a step closer, leaning in to her. He could feel the heat of her anger radiating off her face, as he brushed his lips against her cheek. “Buffy, jus’ get back to the wagon, I’ll explain later.” He waited for a moment, then even softer murmured, “Trust me, I have a plan.” After a moment, when her fierce gaze didn’t alter, he added, “Please?”

He felt Buffy’s anger begin to dissipate, her narrowed eyes softening, just a bit. He let out a sigh of relief, smiled, and chucked her under the chin. “Run along now,” he said, in a louder voice. “We may have a few more hours this mornin’ to ready ourselves ‘cause of the Turner’s axle needin’ fixed, but Mr. Masterson and Shay will expect us to be ready to go when they call out.”

“Yes, William,” Buffy said, tightly. Before Spike could draw away from her, however, she hauled him to her by the collar of his shirt, whispering in his ear. “You have a lot of explaining to do, Mr. Helpful. And if you ever talk to me again like I’m a brain dead mule, I will cut off your balls with a rusty knife and serve them to sweet, little Katie over there on a platter. Capice?” In an effort that Spike was sure was only for the benefit of their audience, she pecked a chaste kiss on his cheek before pulling back from him.

They stood nose to nose for a long moment, before Spike sighed and turned on his heel, stalking back towards Katie. “I’ll see you back at the wagon,” he said dismissively over his shoulder.

As he neared the redhead he heard the swish of Buffy’s skirts as she turned, tromping off to make her way back across the camp to their wagon. He hadn’t a clue as to what had gotten into the Slayer and why she was acting like she’d sat on a hornet’s nest.

Just when he thought he was figuring the Slayer out, she went and tore all his assumptions to shreds. He thought she’d finally begun to trust him. Thought they’d forged a truce; a mutual understanding that they were in this situation together and had to work as allies if they had any hope of finding there way home. Obviously, to her, he was still just the monster she had to keep an eye on. Heart beat or no, soul or no, to the Slayer he would always be one stake short of the dusting he so richly deserved. His jaw muscle tightened and he stretched the muscles in his neck to help ease the tension.

Whatever the Slayer’s problem was, however, was going to have to wait. He needed to talk with Shay – time was wasting and they needed to begin to figure their way out of this situation. If yesterday was any indication, this trip was not something that either of them was going to be able to get through without serious risk to life and limb. They might have been able to handle it before, if whatever had happened to them had left them as they were – a slayer and a vampire. But as humans, not versed in the ways of this time, not hardened to the life that now faced them, it was only a matter of time before one of them got hurt—or worse. If Shay couldn’t give them a clue as to what had happened to them, then Spike knew he had start looking for ways of getting them off this wagon train and into a safer environment.

He’d been up most of last night; unable to sleep as he worried not only about his changing relationship with Buffy, but also the responsibility that came hand-in-hand with those changes. Like it or not, and for whatever reason, he had feelings of affection for the Slayer – even now, as angry he as was. But in this situation, when he felt the rush to protect her, his humanity weighed him down like an anchor. His biggest fear now was not being there for her—not being able to take care of her—when she most needed him.

Spike knew, if he confided in her, told her any of this, Buffy would give him nothing but a swift punch in the nose for his troubles. She could take care of herself, she’d declare, after belting him another one, no doubt. But Spike knew his weaknesses now, and he just as surely knew Buffy’s.
He may not have been a gentleman for many years, but now his every instinct drove him to protect her. Old, noble habits, were, indeed, hard to break.

“You’re a million miles away.” Katie’s dulcet tones drew him from his thoughts and he realized he’d been staring off to hills beyond her wagon.

“Beg your pardon,” he smiled sheepishly.

“No, I’m the one that should be sorry. I seem to have caused some problems between you and your wife.” She didn’t look sorry. and her smile held the promise of causing even more problems, of a particularly pleasurable variety.

“Not at all. Buffy… ah, Elizabeth is just—”

“High strung,” Katie supplied with a smirk.

Spike grinned. “Yeah, that’s a good way of sayin’ it.”

“I hope you don’t mind me saying this, William, but it seems to me that a man like you needs someone that’s a bit more … How shall I say this?” She tilted her head and her smirk turned to soft smile, her eyelids lowering a bit to stare intently at him. “Accommodating?”

Spike’s jaw dropped a fraction of an inch and he felt his newly beating heart speed up. It had been a long time since a woman had so blatantly come on to him, and he felt his body responding to the offer. It had also been far too long since he’d made love to a woman, and Katie was a temptation he was finding hard to resist. His cock strained against the fabric of his jeans and he wondered what harm there could be in partaking of the pleasure this woman was so obviously offering.

As a vampire, he’d have known the answer to this question before it was even asked. Now, however, it was more difficult. He didn’t feel guilty about his attraction to this woman, even though he knew he probably should. Hadn’t he just admitted to himself that he felt something for Buffy? He would not, could not, label those feelings as love, but they were something and that made lusting after another woman wrong. Wasn’t it?

He wondered, not for the first time, how humans could deal with these moral ambiguities on a daily basis. It was so much easier being evil.

A movement caught Spike’s eye and he turned to watch the elderly shaman approach Katie’s wagon, carrying a small burlap sack in one hand, while a rifle rested in the crook of his other arm. For now, anyway, he’d have to put his feelings for Buffy and his lust for Katie on the back burner. Right now he had to quiz the old man on what he knew about his and Buffy’s displacement to this time and maybe, just maybe, find a way out of this mess.

To Be Continued





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