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Running from the Inevitable by The Enemy of Reality
Chapter one
A/N: I wanted to wait until New Year to post this, but guess what... I couldn't wait! Yes, I'm sure you all condemn me for my impatience. Also, I'm well aware the title may suck hairy balls but I couldn't come up with anything clever. There are mentions of Angel and Dru... but that's what they are... mentions. Therefore I didn't think it warranted Spike/other, Buffy/other warning. And yes, I'm shutting up now so you can go on and read already. ;)

Beta'd by the amazing All4Spike and BloodyHell. Thank you guys!!

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


Chapter 1

Sitting on a couch in her very un-sexy sweat pants with a tub of ice-cream in her lap, Buffy sighed. Heavily. So what if it was a Friday night and she was home alone, having a pig out while wallowing in self-pity? She had more than earned the right. High school was over and while a part of her rejoiced in that, another part of her kind of missed it.

She missed the library sessions, though not so much the researching part if she was being honest. She missed walking with Willow and Xander down the halls. God, even trying to avoid Snyder as he followed her every move with his beady eyes. They had defeated The Mayor a week ago and now all there was left of Sunnydale High was debris and stench of burnt demon meat. Not that her heart was in a much better condition after Angel had decided to stomp all over it for her own good.

Buffy shoved a spoonful of chocolate ice-cream into her mouth as she scowled at the television screen. So many channels and not even one thing worth watching.

She knew she was being bitter. But who wouldn’t be? Even though she understood why Angel had left, she couldn’t help but feel resentful of him for not even trying to stick around for a while longer. It wasn’t like she would live long enough to see her first wrinkle. What’s a few years for someone who could live forever? He could have stayed and they could have worked things out. Tried to anchor his soul. Just… something. Instead there he went, all ‘we cannot be together, Buffy’ and blah, blah, blah.

Brows drawn together in a frown, Buffy switched from one channel to another, wishing her mom had stayed home.

Stupid buying trips.

Sulking wouldn’t feel nearly as pitiful if she didn’t do it alone, but Willow was on a date with Oz and Buffy had made an excuse of having to patrol instead. Willow adopted that kicked puppy look that made Buffy feel guilty for lying, but she was no third wheel agent this time. Xander wasn’t much help either since he was doing his part in supporting American economy by delivering pizza goodness.

As she ate more ice-cream, Buffy realized she must be the most pathetic person in Sunnydale right now.

Her head whipped around as she heard a crash outside. It had better not be a demon or she’d stick the spoon in a place where the sun didn’t shine. There was a tinny sound as trashcans hit the pavement.

Maybe it’s just a raccoon.

With her luck, it would probably turn out to be something slimy and disgusting that would ruin her favourite lounging sweat pants. Buffy stood up and approached the window, peering into the darkness as she tried to pinpoint the source of late night vandalism.

A black heap of something-- or more likely someone-- was sprawled across her front lawn. Buffy rushed to the door and swung it open. Her jaw dropped as she spotted the obviously drunken form of the obnoxious vampire.

“Slayer!” he snarled and knelt up, bottle of alcohol clasped safely in his hand.

“Spike, what the hell are you doing? And here?”

She couldn’t believe his nerve. Did he want to get even deader? Clutching the spoon, she graced him with her best ‘you’re dust’ stare. “I so don’t have time for this,” she muttered.

Spike managed to stand up and made his way toward her on wobbly legs. At one point Buffy thought he was going to trip over his boots and fall face first on the ground. Well, at least it would have made her night a lot more entertaining.

“You gotta… make things right,” he slurred and focused on making it up the steps.

“Do not even think of coming closer, buddy.”

“Or what? Gonna slay me?”

“If you’re coming any closer your booze breath will probably slay me instead,” she muttered.

Spike ignored her and dragged himself up on to the porch to stand nose to nose with her, separated by the door-step. “You’re the one to blame, you know. It’s all your bloody fault that Dru doesn’t want me anymore… daft cow.”

“You better not have been referring to me with that last comment,” she said with narrowed eyes.

“Is that chocolate?” Spike asked hopefully as he craned his neck to peer into the tub tucked in the crook of her arm.

“Yes and… What is your damage, Spike?” she asked incredulously. “Really. I’d like to know. You do realize I am the Slayer, right? Good with pointy wooden objects? Killing your kind? Ring any bells?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m trembling in my boots,” he replied and took a swing from the bottle. “Can I have some?”

“Okay, what part of what I said did you not unders-”

“Please, Slayer. What’s a little snack sharing between enemies?”

Buffy stared.

Spike pouted.

She rolled her eyes and was about to slam the door in his face when Spike suddenly lost his balance and fell forward, knocking the ice-cream container out of her hand. As the impact with the ground knocked the breath out of her, the situation got even worse when she found herself squished by the vampire lying on top of her. A vampire who had obviously passed out, his face buried in her neck. Her eyes widened as she realized Spike had a free pass into her house.

She had totally forgotten to have Willow revoke his invitation! What kind of a Slayer was she?

Shoving his heavy weight off her with a huff of irritation, Buffy stood up and dragged him inside before closing the door. This was turning out to be a night out of bizarro world. And what was even stranger was that Spike managed not to lose the hold of the liquor as he lost consciousness. Go figure.

Hauling him on to the sofa, Buffy contemplated her next move. Maybe she should just stake him and be done with it. She would be doing the world a favour, certainly saving a lot of lives. How did her night go from watching crappy TV to having one of the most dangerous vampires passed out on her couch? The Powers That Be must get a kick out of playing with her this way.

He doesn’t look that annoying right now. Maybe because he’s not talking.

Buffy tilted her head as she regarded him, deciding to take off his boots. Mom would murder her if she found dirt on the upholstery. As she knelt down and took them off, it occurred to her how entirely ridiculous this situation was. She, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, was tending to William the Bloody. Taking off his boots, no less.

Huh, Spike has feet.

Of course, she knew that, but she’d never actually seen them. His feet looked oddly vulnerable dressed in socks. Her hands flew to her mouth as she desperately tried to muffle the onslaught of giggles.

Spike’s socks were… unusual to say the least. What in the world had possessed him to put on yellow ones with little red hearts was beyond her. He must have been completely wasted. Her eyes trailed up his stretched form and made an innocent stop to take in his crotch area where the top button was undone. She briefly wondered how that had happened. On the second very unpleasant note, those jeans might have as well been painted on for what little they left to her imagination.

No wonder he always swaggers around all cocky… okay, bad choice of words.

She blushed. His black t-shirt rolled up to reveal a patch of smooth skin. Buffy’s fingers twitched with a sudden urge to touch him there and trace the trail of soft hair disappearing into the jeans.

Oh, what do we have here? Damn… stupid teenage hormones.

What in the hell was wrong with her? Spike equaled major ick! What with his beacon like retro hair and outdated fashion choices, and obsession with the nutcase. Also, she was still staring. Damn him!

Spike shifted and her eyes quickly jerked to his face, then she let out a breath she’d been holding. If he had caught her ogling him, she would have to kill him because there was no way he’d let it slide. Her gaze flickered down to the parts she’d been assessing before the incredibly rude interruption. The black T-shirt had ridden higher with his squirming and Buffy parted her lips in a slight ‘o’. Spike’s abdominals were… nice. Very nice. Men like him shouldn’t be allowed to cover up their bodies with obnoxious clothes.

He’s not a man, he’s a vampire.

Looks pretty manly to me.

This is Spike you’re talking about!

I wish he would turn around so I could get a look at his butt. Stupid duster is always covering it up.

Would you get your mind out of the gutter, for God’s sake?

I’m a teenager. My mind is supposed to be in the gutter.

Why do I even bother?

That’s what I’d like to know.

Buffy shook her head. She really had to stop having inner dialogues. It was way creepy.

Spike’s hand rested on his chest and Buffy noticed that his T-shirt was turned inside out. The T-shirt, the unbuttoned jeans, the funny socks. What in the hell had he been doing? Her eyes widened.

So don’t want to know.

As soon as her gaze shifted to look at his neck, she got distracted. She never knew a man’s neck could be sexy, but boy had she been wrong. No wonder Drusilla wanted to sink her teeth into him. His throat was slightly arched, Adam’s apple barely moving under his smooth pale skin. The slope of his neck was graceful, vulnerable yet strong as it joined his jaw. And…

Oh God, she was doing it again. It must have been the ice-cream. It was evil! Probably made from some Hellmouthy demon milk or something.

Buffy bit her lip and inadvertently leaned closer. He really did have a beautiful face for such an irritating vampire. His lips looked soft and quite feminine when he wasn’t sneering or smirking at her. And what right did he have to have such dark thick eyelashes? Why did men always have to have those? It made her want to punch him. Something as evil as him had no right to have a face like that.

Warily, Buffy lifted her hand and poked his shoulder with her index finger to wake him up. Spike scrunched up his face and before she could react, he snatched her hand and tucked it against his cheek, still soundly asleep.

Crap, now what, you genius?

Trying to get it out of his strong grasp proved to be impossible. Spike growled every time she even attempted to take her hand back, his hold tightening.

“Mmmm,” he let out and smacked his lips, cuddling her hand closer under his chin. Then he tugged at her whole arm—hard-- and Buffy toppled half on top of him, noticing distantly that the bottle was finally released from his grasp and rolled away from the couch. Still sleeping, Spike hugged her close and let out a deep rumbling noise that reverberated across her skin.

Okay, this is bad. No cuddling with the soulless blood-suckers, Buffy. And hey, vampires purr?

“Slayer,” he muttered and Buffy’s eyes widened. His eyes were closed. Was he talking in his sleep? Why would he say her name, or title as the case may be? Then Spike’s hand wandered down her back to rest at her bottom before he switched their positions. Buffy found herself pressed into the couch, under him for the second time that night. Now this would be hard to explain if someone caught them.

God, she felt so pathetic that being so close to Spike of all non-people was kind of comforting. Even if he smelt like he’d been soaking in alcohol for a few days.

And on that mental note… Could I be any needier? Get it together, Buffy.

Spike nuzzled her cheek and Buffy’s breath caught in her throat when he ground his pelvis against hers. She could also hear the shift of his facial bones that set her Slayer alarm on a high alert and she finally realized what she was doing. Or more like lack of it. With as much force as she could muster, she pushed him off her with her face scrunched up in disgust.

He crashed to the floor with a loud thump and a groan. His hazy yellow eyes met hers in confusion before they melted into blue accompanied by a hopeful expression.

“Slayer? Can I have that ice-cream now?”


A/N: Let me know if you'd like to see more. I'm not a mind-reader, you know. ;) And I can hear what you're thinking right now.... "This puny human wants me to review?! *mwahaha* Like hell!" But I'd appreciate it more than you can imagine. *stares at you imploringly with her beady eyes*