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Running from the Inevitable by The Enemy of Reality
 
Chapter six
 
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A/N: Here's more. :D Thank you everyone rwho is reading and reviewing for being so amazing!

Awesome betas: All4Spike and BloodyHell.


Chapter 6


Two hours later, Spike was still at the hospital. The nurse had come back, but one look at the sleeping Buffy in his arms, and she’d let him stay. Now he was drifting asleep, carried away by the steady staccato thudding through the veins of his enemy. The enemy currently snuggled into his side. Her arms were still entwined around his waist though the tenacious grip had long gone lax quite a while ago. He should just get up and leave. He should, except… he was so tired.


He’d rest his eyes for a little while. No harm done.


Already, Spike could feel himself hovering between sleep and wakefulness, the smell of the human beside him drowning him in its strange familiarity. And then she was all around him. Everywhere he looked, the Slayer was there. They were surrounded by night but she pierced the darkness with life radiating off her in waves.


Dressed in a pink fluffy ballerina skirt over a tight black leotard, she stretched her arms out towards the moon and tilted her head back in a private rapture. Eyes closed, she twirled in the pale gleam of moonlight, her bare feet moving effortlessly on the dewy grass.


Spike stared, every muscle poised and taut. Ready as he watched his prey. Or was she? Her eyes opened and met his gaze as she danced around him, circling him. Was he the gazelle, ready to be slaughtered?


Rocking on the balls of his feet, he stalked her. A tiny smile hovered on her lips. As though she had a secret. As though she was taunting him with knowledge he couldn’t quite grasp.


“Spike,” she breathed. “Dance with me?”


He was close enough now and she’d never stopped moving. He couldn’t watch and wait anymore. She was so graceful yet deadly, calling to him. Electricity ran up his fingers as he closed them around her forearm. His every nerve ending throbbed with the ache to touch, to possess. The Slayer only smiled, stroked the side of his face then shoved him away.


She was poised to make a run for it again and he clasped her wrist, rolling her back into his arms. The warmth of her body seeped through the fabric of his T-shirt, her breath hot on the side of his neck as she tilted her head to the side.


“Is that what you want?” he asked. “To dance with me?”


“What else is there to do?”


She sneaked her way out of his arms, fingers trailing a fiery path across his chest and stomach. Then she was behind him, her breasts pressed into his back as she bit his shoulder blade. Hard.


Vulnerable.


That was what she made him feel, so he reeled back, ready to hit her with his elbow. The hit never connected and she grasped his arm, spun him around. Blue clashed with green as their eyes met, adrenaline pumping. Then all bets were off.


They traded punches, each of them blocking with forearms, always ducking. Touching each other through violence. She dropped to the ground and he had to jump to avoid getting his legs swept from under him. Ready now, he grasped her ankle as she prepared to high kick him in the head and he pushed her away. Never falling, Buffy molded the momentum into a cartwheel.


Before he could catch a breath he didn’t need, she ran and leaped into the air, her legs locked around his waist so hard his ribs creaked in protest. Twisting around, she brought them to the ground, the impact of the fall hard. Spike reacted instinctively and grasped her waist then hoisted her above his head. She rolled into a somersault and jumped to her feet. Following her motion, Spike did the same and they circled each other, panting. Savage and greedy to dominate the other. To make contact again.


She came at him, her eyes blazing as she aimed a punch at his face. Expecting it, he caught her hand then the other and twirled her in his arms. For the second time, she ended up with her back to his front. The tension between them was crackling, her spine arching as she rubbed against him. Immediately his harsh grip softened, fingers splayed across her quivering stomach.


One of her arms reached back and fingers twined themselves in the curls at the nape of his neck. Her head rolled to the side, the skin of her neck sweet and salty as he traced it with the tip of his tongue. The taste fogged his mind and she managed to spin away from him, the corner of her lips curled in a secretive smile. She let herself fall back with her hands fisted in his T-shirt as she threw him over her head.


Wind knocked out of him, he could only watch as she appeared above him and sank down to straddle his hips. Her fingers scratched down his chest, marking him as hers. Buffy bent down, the tips of her golden hair tickling his cheeks. How could he do anything but surrender, eyes falling shut as pleasure leashed him as its slave? The way she smelled had him clutching her hips. She was liquid sin seeping into his flesh, a drug he could never get out of his system.


She leaned in, her lips a feathery whisper across his. And he was falling, being thrown into the skies, blinded by the sun that didn’t burn…


There was a crack right before pain exploded on the back of his head, bringing him harshly back into reality.


“Fuck!” he said, still trying to blink the cobwebs of the dream out of his eyes. As the aftermath, the jeans he was wearing had become painfully tight across his groin. Also, he could smell blood, and it was his.


Sure enough, as soon as he touched the back of his head, his fingers encountered slickness. A quick glance around told him, his head had made a brief but impressionable acquaintance with the night stand. Didn’t mean it made him any less hard. Bloody annoying, that.


“I’m sorry.” Then he remembered he was not in fact alone. Buffy was peering down at him sheepishly, semi-apologetic smile on her face. “I didn’t mean to.”


“Do you usually kick blokes out of your bed?” He stood up and picked up the sheet to press it against his wound.


“Just you,” she said with a nod. “I woke up and the sight of you so close freaked me out.”


Well, there was a compliment if he’d ever heard one. And he’d been dreaming about her. What kind of sadist was he?


“Right then. Some gratitude I get. It was your bloody idea too.” He added in a falsetto voice, “Oh, Spike, you big strapping vampire, you have to hug me!”


She blushed to the roots of her hair. “It was the stuff they gave me!”


“Sure it was,” he replied with a grin.


“Oh, shut up,” she said with no heat behind her voice. “Anyway, we have to go.”


“No kidding.”


“I mean it! I have this feeling… we should go.”


He tossed the bloodied sheet on the bed. “Think the birds would crash a sodding hospital of all places?”


She shrugged. “Stranger things have happened.”


Spike spotted his duster on a nearby chair and went over to take it. When he turned around, Buffy’s bare feet hit the tiled floor.


“The hospital gown’s a nice look for you,” he said with as much sarcasm as he could muster. Truth was she’d look good in a sand-sack. Except, this was even better, since she was currently offering a rather nice view of her pert arse while she was searching the room for a pair of spare hospital slippers. And ignoring him. Well, that just wouldn’t do.


He leered. “Hey, Slayer?”


She spun around, annoyed. “What!”


“Not feeling cold?”


Her brows drew together in confusion. “What?”


“You know… no breeze making you all goose bumpy?” He pointed at her lower half.


It was hilarious to watch her eyes widen to epic proportions. Her hands immediately flew to her backside to hold the open gown together.


“You’re so… ugh!”


“Don’t be embarrassed on my account, pet. Now move that bitable bum and let’s roll, yeah? Time’s wasting.”


“I’m going, jeez.” She picked up his red shirt which she obviously already deemed to be hers. “Don’t look. And turn around.”


She waited for him to do so and he heard the rustling of fabric as she took the hospital gown off. Being an evil vampire, he glanced over his shoulder. His mouth ran dry at the sight of her slipping into his shirt. All he saw was her bare back and the soft curve of the side of her breast, but it was enough to make his arousal return with a vengeance. Forcing himself to look away so she wouldn’t catch him peeking proved to be more difficult than he’d anticipated.


“I’m decent. We can go now.”


Shuffling in slippers a few sizes too big for her delicate feet, she approached him and snatched the duster from his hands with her chin held high. As he watched her slide into the leather, he couldn’t find it in himself to argue, and followed her out of the hospital room.


*******


She had not flashed Spike. Again. Just as she had not enjoyed waking up in his arms. If only he hadn’t smelled like something very edible. Not that she wanted to eat Spike… Oh God, she was going straight to hell where she’d be forced to watch bad teenage movies for eternity.


They melted into the shadows and sneaked down the corridor. It was dead in the night, so not many of the personnel were around, which was exactly what they needed to get out undetected. Just as she was about to pass a hospital room, Spike’s arms shot to her waist as he drew her back and against him into the shadows.


Her heart was thundering in her chest as she watched a nurse come out of the room. That was the only reason for her accelerated heart beat. Yes, Sir. His arms disappeared and she forced herself into moving again.


Soon they were out on the fresh air. Good thing too because those hospital fumes were influencing her in the strangest way.


“I reckon we should steal another car,” Spike said.


“Okay.”


He stopped dead in his tracks “Did you just agree with me on committing a crime?”


She shrugged. “It’s not like we have money for a taxi, right? And I’m too tired to argue right now.”


He shook his head and caught up to her. After a moment he asked, “How’s your head. You feeling better? Sure you shouldn’t have stayed at the hospital for a bit longer?”


She glanced over at him, surprised by the concern in his voice. “Um… I think so. Still not feeling 100% Buffy but I’m getting there. Slayer healing and all that. I just need a bit more sleep, I think.”


“Good.” He stopped near a car and smirked. “So, Bonny, fancy a ride?”


“Huh?”


He rolled his eyes. “You know… the famous criminals? Bonny and bloody Clyde?”


She stared at him blankly and he sighed in disgust before picking a lock and opening the door for her. “Just get in, would you?”


“I knew that,” she said with a pout and got into the car. “So, any idea where we are?”


“As a matter of fact, yeah. I did some asking about at the hospital and we’re just north of LA. Some small town near Pasadena,” came his muffled voice from beneath the wheel as he tried to hotwire the car.


“I’m hungry.”


The engine kicked in and Spike let out a triumphant whoop that almost made her smile. Just almost though.


He sat back and stretched, his hand resting on his crotch as he waggled his tongue at her in a rather crude fashion.


“Eat me then.”


“Eww!” Definitely regretting the almost smiling now.


“Oh come on, Slayer. Don’t be such a prude.” He stepped on the pedal and peeled out of the parking lot.


“I’m not a prude. I could be very… adventurous, you know.”


“Could you now? Care to demonstrate?”


How funny would his expression be if she actually said yes? She snorted then burst into full blown laughter. Spike was looking at her like she’d lost her mind which only made it worse. She was laughing so hard now she might just pee herself.


“Oh God…. Your face!”


“What’s wrong with my face?” he said and frowned deeper which only spurred her on.


“Stop it… I can’t… anymore.”


He shook his head and chuckled. “I think the hunger might be making you delirious.”


Eventually her laughter tapered off into occasional giggles.


“Care to tell me what was so funny?”


“I imagined what you’d look like if I actually said yes. Crazy, right?”


She missed the way he shifted in his seat and the way his answering snort was just a little too forced.


“Bloody insane.”


“Spike?”


“Yeah?”


“I want to… thank you,” she mumbled.


He glanced over at her, eyes widened in shock. “Uh… what for?”


“Come on, are you really going to make me say it?”


“Guess so.”


“Thank you for saving my life.”


Spike rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah. That. You’re welcome.” He seemed to pull himself together and shed whatever weird bashfulness that had overcome him for a moment. His eyes sparkled with mischief. “You owe me.”


“I don’t think so. I’d say we’re even since this whole thing is actually your fault. A little tryst with an Amazon chick rings any bells?”


He looked as though he wanted to argue her point but then his shoulders slumped.


“Not even a little taste of your blood?”


“No!”


“Couldn’t blame a bloke for trying. Your blood is the sweetest thing there is, you know. Fucking ambrosia.”


That was equally gross and kind of cute. Just like Spike himself. And she still must be suffering the after effects of concussion.


“In your dreams, pal,” she said, starting to feel a bit drowsy.


“Yeah.”


Comfortable silence settled over them as Spike turned on the radio. Classical music played in the background as she leaned her forehead against the cool window and watched the scenery pass them by. Her eyelids were too heavy so she closed them, letting the hum of engine lull her to sleep. The last coherent thought that flitted through her brain before she succumbed was how easy it was to do so in the presence of her so-called mortal enemy.


TBC

 
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