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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks, as always to my betas, holly and eman, who constantly ask me “where’s that next chapter?” Also thanks to all the readers who have taken a moment of their time to post or write to me with comments on the story. I am a feedback whore, why deny it
Chapter Six – Horses Dream of Pastures Wide and Free

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Buffy helped to steady the old man as he slowly rose to his feet. Spike, feeling discretion was the better part of valor, stood off to the side. He did have the decency to look embarrassed, however, when the old man looked his way.

After she made sure there wasn’t any permanent damage, short of the split lip and swollen, bruised jaw already blossoming, Buffy started to brush the mud and leaves from his clothing.

“I’m really sorry about that. We both are.” She glanced quickly to see Spike nod his head apologetically. The uncharacteristic move caught her attention and an eyebrow rose as she studied him.

“Yeah, sorry about that, mate.” Spike’s eyes twitched between the old man’s dark brown gaze and the unusually direct way his partner in time-travel seemed to be studying him.

“You do not need to apologize.” The old man tilted his head, seeming to take Spike’s measurement as a man in his piercing gaze. “You are a protector. A champion. You protect the woman you love. There should never be regret in that.”

“Ah . . . well . . . ” Buffy stuttered out, as Spike raised both eyebrows and pinned her with a look. “Now that you’re on your feet I was wondering if I could ask you a question.” When the old man didn’t respond, she rushed on. “What you were saying, before Spike… ah, Will hit you. What did you mean? You mentioned a dream and finding our way out. Do you remember?”

“Yes, I remember, I—”

“Shay, what in the hell is keeping you. Masterson’s chomping at the bit to be on the move—”
The tall cowboy from the night before stopped dead in his tracks at seeing the older man’s face, bruised and swollen. “What in tarnation happened here?” The soft, gravely voice roughened further with anger.

Before Buffy or Spike could speak, the old man stepped towards the cowboy. “I am fine Matthew. I tripped and fell. These young ones were within shouting distance and came to help me.” He glanced back at the Buffy and Spike, a twinkle in his dark eyes suggested that they keep their mouths shut and let him do the talking.

“You fell? You?” Matthew squinted skeptically at the old man. “Shay, I’ve never seen you take a misstep in my life.”

Shay smiled gently at his young friend. “There is a first time for everything, Matthew; I am not as young as I once was. It was still dark and I was not paying attention.”

“You sure you’re okay?” Matthew came closer to his friend, frowning at the injury that marked the older man’s face. He turned to Buffy and Spike, his concern apparent. “Thanks, Will, Elizabeth. Glad you were around to help Shay out.”

“Oh, ah, we really didn’t do anything.” Buffy bit her lip, casting her eyes down in a look that she hoped appeared humble, rather than guilty. She snuck a glance out of the corner of her eye at Spike who seemed to have adopted a deer in the headlights look.

To both Buffy and Spike’s relief, Matthew turned his attention back to his friend. “You okay to get back to camp? You need to ride in one of the wagons today?”

“No, Matthew, I am fine.” Shay smiled at his friend, then turned back to Buffy and Spike. “I will finish that story I was telling you later.”

“Story.” Buffy frowned, her eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

Matthew chuckled. “Shay boring you with more of his old Indian stories? He has a million of them, you know. Best watch out or you’ll be hearing them all.”

Buffy’s eyes widened and she nodded her head. “Stories, yes, he was telling one of his stories.” She turned to look at Shay who wore an enigmatic smile on his weathered face. “I hope you can finish the one you were telling us soon.”

Shay simply nodded his head and turned to walk back towards the campsite.

“You might not want to encourage him. He can be a long-winded old coot. Not that his yarns aren’t interestin’. Was once a pretty important medicine man in his tribe. They said he had the vision.” Matthew turned towards Spike, the looked back over his shoulder to where Buffy stood. “You two gonna tell me what you were doing up and out before dawn this morning?”

“Buf—Beth was feelin’ a bit closed in. Thought we’d catch some air,” Spike offered up, moving over to Buffy and winding an arm around her waist to pull her close to his side.

Matthew rolled his eyes, trying to bite back a smile. “Save me from spoonin’ love birds.”

Spike pulled Buffy just a bit closer and nuzzled into her hair. He could feel Buffy tense in his arms and he curled his fingers a little tighter into her waist. “Calm now,” he whispered. He cast a glance at Matthew and tossed him a crooked grin. “You caught us, Matthew. Just wanted to take a walk with my darlin’ before we got movin’ this morning.”

Buffy drew in a deep breath and willed herself to relax in Spike’s arms. But old habits die hard and her slayer senses, while no longer fueled by whatever supernatural forces once drove her, were still screaming in her head that this was just wrong. On so many levels.

She shivered and didn’t know if it was because of the pressure of Spike’s thigh so intimately pressed against hers, or from the cool of morning. She hoped it was the temperature of the air and not the proximity of the ex-vampire, but she was afraid she’d lose that bet. Her body betrayed her again and she trembled, only to find herself pulled into the circle of Spike’s arms. Out of the frying pan and into the fire.

Matthew rumbled with laughter, turning to head back to camp. “Will, I don’t care if you are honeymooners, you better not keep us waiting or Masterson’s gonna have a piece your hide. See you back at camp.”

Buffy waited until the cowboy was out of sight before pulling herself free of Spike’s embrace.

“Okay, Handy McVampire, what’s with the gropage?” She turned from him, using the time to straighten her dress and calm her nerves. She could feel the flame of her cheeks and the too fast pitter pat of her heart in her chest.

Spike shot her a vintage smirk, coming up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. pulling her back snug against his chest. “That’s Handy Mc-Ex-vampire, to you, missy. Oh, guess that would be Missus. Missus Throckmorton. Rolls trippin’ly off the tongue, heh?”

Buffy struggled against his hold but stopped when she realized that this was a fight she wasn’t currently capable of winning. “Look, Mr. Throckmorton—”

Her grumble was cut short by Spike’s belly laugh, his body vibrating against hers, his arms tightening about her until she could feel his belt buckle pressed against the small of her back. It was large and hard. She hoped it was his belt buckle. She scrunched up her face, willing her mind from the dark road it was headed. Fire pretty.

“We’re newlyweds to these prats. And even if it looks like we won’t be here long, best we keep up with appearances, no matter how … hard it might be.” He emphasized his words with a slight shift of his hips against her buttocks.

“You are vile,” Buffy hissed, twisting out of his arms.

Spike released her, dancing back and away from her now flailing fists. “Flattery will get you -- oh, hell, it won’t get you anywhere, luv, but I adore hearin’ it.”

Catching her fists in his hands, Spike drew her up against him, and Buffy realized quickly that it hadn’t been his belt buckle pressing in to her. Before the thought could germinate, Spike smiled down into her stormy eyes, biting his lower lip provocatively. A flash of memory hit her in the gut. Sitting on his lap, kissing him, while Willow’s spell wove itself about them. Must not focus on lips of Spike

“What do you mean we may not be here long? What’s up with you, Spike?” Buffy’s face flushed a brighter red as she instantly regretted her words and battened down for a lewd remark.

Instead she got another chuckle. “Don’t you get it, Slayer? We’re gettin’ outta here. We found our ticket out of here and back to Home Sweet Hell-Mouth.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Have you gone insane? It must be the sunlight. It’s been a hundred years since you were in daylight and it’s just made you all wonky, right?”

“It’s not that, Buffy. Although I have to admit, this sunlight business is a bit of alright.” Spike murmured, squinting at the horizon at the rising star.

Without warning, Spike released her wrists and stepped back from her, leaving her strangely bereft of his touch.

He looked at her quizzically. “You’re the one that found him. The old man. You heard what Matthew said. A bigwig shaman. With visions, no less. And he’s had a dream about us. Knew you, right off. Betcha he’s got some answers for all our questions. Betcha he’s holdin’ our ticket outta here.”

“That’s a lot of betting, Spike. For all we know he’s just some old geezer reeling senility in with both hands.” A small surge of guilt tugged at her as she watched the grin fade from the ex-vampire’s face. “Look, I just don’t want us to get our hopes up, that’s all.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Spike nodded. “You’re right.” At her smug smile, he continued, “But I’m right when I say we have to keep up appearances. Could tell that Matthew was wondering about us this morning. No need to draw more attention to ourselves than necessary.”

“Oh and all the touchy-feely and kissage isn’t attention drawing?” Buffy huffed.

“We’re newlyweds, Slayer. Two young lovers. People are gonna notice us not being near each other, touching, holding hands. Besides, this day an’ age a woman didn’t go wanderin’ too far away from her husband’s protection—“

“Excuse me?” Buffy glared at him, her hands planted on her hips. “You did not just say that.”

Spike took in a deep breath, releasing it slowly. “Not sayin’ it was right, Buffy, just sayin’ how it was. How it is.”

Buffy snorted, tilting her chin into the air. “Well, Buster, you can bet that I’m not gonna be wandering around attached to your coat tails.” At his look of frustration, she relented a bit, moving from full-throttle glare to mid-sized glower. “Fine, okay, I’ll try to watch myself and be a bit more chronologically attuned in the girl department. But can we keep the fondling and kissing to a minimum?”

Shrugging, Spike said, “Don’t see why not. A few well-placed public displays of affection should hold us.” The ex-vampire turned to head back to the campsite. Looking over his shoulder he added, “Anyway, there wasn’t any kissing.”

Buffy frowned, moving to follow him. “No kiss? Are you sure?”

Spike smiled and kept walking, hearing the rustle of her skirts as she moved to catch up with him. “There was no kiss.” When she fell in beside him, he turned to look at her with a sly grin and one raised brow. “Trust me, Buffy, when I kiss you, there won’t be any doubt.”

Spike lengthened his stride, jumping over a fallen log and jogging off to camp, leaving Buffy to contemplate his words.

To Be Continued





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