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Running from the Inevitable by The Enemy of Reality
 
Chapter three
 
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A/N: Thank you everyone reading and sharing your lovely thoughts. I love you more than I love winter sales! And coming from me, I assure you that's a huge deal.

Thank you All4Spike and BloodyHell for betaing this story. You're awesome!

Previously: Buffy and Spike had a verbal sparring match that resulted in Buffy locking him out of the house. But he's still there! Because it's Spike and he just doesn't leave, people. He's like a bad penny. And by 'bad', I obviously mean sex on legs.


Chapter 3


As he shuffled his feet, listening to the Slayer cry her pretty eyes out, he realized he’d never felt more out of place. Even though Spike meant every word, he almost felt guilty for what he’d said. He’d never really cared about something like that before, and the fact she made him feel like his worthless human self made his fangs itch.


Who the hell does the bitch think she is? Making me feel?


He should just barge in there, laugh at her distress and snap her neck. No, better rip her throat out and gorge on her blood. Yeah, he’d just kick down the door and grip that annoyingly luscious hair as he sank his teeth into her so slowly she’d melt right against him. She’d moan and beg him to hurt her just a little bit more.


Wait, that’s not right. Maiming and torturing, that’s the plan. Not some simpering love bite… oh, fuck. Not that word again.


This was Dru’s fault. Her and her bloody rants that had put the seed of doubt into his brain. Clenching his fists, Spike gritted his teeth as he raised his hand and banged on the door.


The sniffling stopped, thank God. There was a commotion on the other side and the Slayer yanked the door open as she stared at him with red rimmed eyes. He could see anger flashing in them and he almost grinned. That was what he wanted to see, not the pathetic sadness that made him want to do unspeakable things like nuzzle her cheek and stroke her hair while she was cuddled against him.


I really gotta stop doing that.


“What do you want? Haven’t you done enough already?” she asked and for one horrible second, Spike watched her lower lip tremble. His stomach clenched at the sight, so… disgusted he was. Yeah.


“I-”


“No! No ‘I’! I’ve had enough. You say one more word and you’re dust, got it?”


“But-”


“I’ll count to five. If you’re not gone by then, I’ll hunt you down and hack off your manly parts.”


Spike winced, but stood his ground. “If you wanted to handle my manly parts, all you had to do was ask, pet.”


Her jaw dropped open as her brain processed the innuendo and Spike waited for her outburst. Better make her furious than withstand one more second of her misery. It was making him sick in the strangest way.


Before Spike could react, she punched him in the nose with so much force he staggered and tripped over the edge of the steps, ending up sprawled on his back with a grunt of pain. The Slayer was on him in a blink. Not that he minded the straddling part so much, but the unreasonably angry gleam in her eyes didn’t bode very well for his health. Especially not for the possibility of him walking out of this with all his parts intact. One part in particular.


She raised her fist to deliver another blow, but he managed to block her hit in the last second, gripping her wrist in his hand. When the Slayer immediately raised her other fist, Spike caught it in his other hand and they ended up struggling. The parts she was currently wriggling on top of were very aware of the friction.


He groaned.


Buffy’s eyes widened as she finally realised what she was doing to him and they both froze, panting for breath. She was too distracted to notice anything was wrong. An arrow whizzed through the air and penetrated her shoulder. She let out a cry of pain and Spike rolled them over, noting they were surrounded by six attackers. They could probably take them out, but the Slayer had been injured and he didn’t like taking his chances against six tall women with crossbows. One of them was blocking the entrance to the house, so the smartest thing to do was run.


Standing up swiftly, he pulled the protesting Slayer upwards and dragged her with him as they raced down the street. He’d never admit it, but as they shot arrows at their backs, Spike purposely got behind Buffy to prevent her from being skewered. He winced as sharp pain exploded in his side.


It was probably his fault they were in this mess to begin with. Not that he’d tell her that. He didn’t much fancy fitting in an ashtray.


The DeSoto was a few meters away and they jogged towards it like a lifeline.


“Get in!” he yelled and yanked the door open before climbing in. Buffy followed him and he revved the engine. The car roared to life as he stepped on the pedal and as they tore down the street, relief spread through his chest.


********


“Why can’t life ever be simple?” Buffy asked with some difficulty as she felt around the wound in her shoulder. “This is your fault. I just… know it.”


“Ever thought it might be you they were hunting? You are the Slayer after all.”


“My life sucks. And … I hate you.”


“Would you shut your gob, Slayer?” Spike glanced at her, the smell of her blood so heady it distracted him from the pain in his side. It would be so easy to just stop the car and suck her dry. Except he should keep driving. And he wasn’t that hungry anyway.


“W-why would I when I know… it annoys you so much?”


“Here, hold the wheel, would you?” Before she could reply, he picked up her hand and closed her fingers around the wheel. “Hold it steady.”


“Wha-”


As quickly as he could, Spike closed his fist around the metal point of the arrow and broke it off before he slid it out and dropped it to the floor. His breaths came out ragged and sharp as he tried to regain control over the pain. He pushed it back and took over the wheel.


“Yours will have to wait until we stop,” he informed her.


“We could have… crashed! What the… hell were you thinking?”


“Yeah, yeah. But could you maybe save the lecture for later? It had to be done so I could drive. End of story,” Spike said and shot her a quick glance. “You’re getting really pale. More than me and that’s saying something. Try not to pass out, yeah?”


That was the last thing he needed, a passed out Slayer bleeding all over his car’s leather seat.


“What do you… care?”


“On the second thought, go on.”


“Spike?”


“Yeah?”


“I don’t feel so… good.” She let out a harsh breath and leaned her forehead against the cold window as the car hit a bump in the road, her complexion deathly sallow.


Spike furrowed his brow as he looked over at her. The bleeding hadn’t stopped yet, and she must have lost a lot of blood when the wound got jostled while they were running.


Bugger.


Her eyes were closed and Spike wasn’t sure if he should keep her conscious or let her fall asleep. Stupid humans and their body functions. His side hurt like hell, but it was just a flesh wound. A scrape, really. He’d had worse and it was already starting to heal.


He stopped the car at the nearest motel and killed the engine. Leaving the Slayer in the car for the moment, Spike stepped out and walked towards a small motel lobby.


The woman behind the reception desk that had seen better days barely even lifted her gaze from the magazine she was immersed in. Fortunately for Spike, living near Hellmouth made people turn a blind eye to lot of things. Either that or the woman was just plain daft. Before she could glance up at him and blink her false eyelashes, he was sliding his fangs into her neck and drawing in just enough blood to help him accelerate the healing. He dropped her unconscious but still alive form to the floor and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. With a key in his hand, Spike made his way towards the car.


Calling at Buffy to wake didn’t seem to have much effect and Spike sighed, irritated. Now he had to carry her. Someone up there really had to have it in for him.


He opened the door and scooped her unconscious body into his arms. The blood trickled out of the hole in his side as he did but Spike ground his teeth and somehow managed to get car’s door closed and locked.


As he walked towards one of the dingy motel rooms, it occurred to him how light she was. Didn’t the girl eat anything? Felt like bag of bones, she did.


He kicked open the door and slammed it closed behind him before proceeding to stagger towards the bed. The wound in his side burned painfully and he could feel the wet material of the T-shirt sticking uncomfortably to his skin where the blood had soaked it through. His body protested with every movement and he had a half mind to drop the Slayer to the floor.


What was he doing playing a strapping hero? Spike scowled and gently put her down on her side then winced as he straightened up and assessed his own injury.


“Remind me to never pick up strange women again,” he muttered.


He was pretty sure some bird had hit on him when he was three sheets to the wind. Tall, beautiful, with a sort of feral look to her. Eerily similar to the women who attacked them. She and Spike had stumbled out of a bar and into the nearest alley, both determined to shag each other six ways to Sunday. In throes of passion, he had called out a wrong name. For some reason, the bird got real offended at that and stormed off with a promise of revenge.


Yeah, he was pretty certain the Slayer got injured because of him and his foot in the mouth disease. But she’d never get to know if he had any say in it. Neither did she need to know it was her name he had called. Now that he thought about it, this whole mess was actually really her fault.


“Stupid bitch, always ruining my life,” he muttered and grimaced as he lifted his arms to strip off the ruined t-shirt. He’d have to wash the damn thing in the sink. Couldn’t very well walk around shirtless, could he? She chose the moment to stir, hissing as she moved.


Spike rolled his eyes and marched over to the bed, helping her sit up.


“Scream if you have to,” he said and before the Slayer could comprehend what was going on, he broke off the tip and slid the arrow out. She cried out and clutched at the bleeding wound before slumping against him. He couldn’t help but notice how pleasantly warm she was.


Ripping off the horrible T-shirt she was wearing, he scanned over her half naked state with a slight leer. Then he ripped it in half, balled the ruined fabric up and pressed it against the injury from both sides to stop the bleeding. His nostrils twitched at the delicious smell of her blood and his fingertips tingled from where they came in contact with bare skin of the top of her breast.


God, but she was bleeding like a stuck pig all over the place.


She mumbled something unintelligible that sounded remotely like a threat before he nudged her to lie back. After dressing his own wound, Spike lay down on the twin bed next to hers with a heavy sigh.


********


Spike was having such a nice dream. If only the annoying buzzing would stop. Groaning, he opened his bleary eyes just in time to get smacked in the face with a pillow.


“What the-”


“Finally! God, do you sleep through anything?” The Slayer asked, seemingly in much better shape if she was already resulting to violence. Also, she was blushing. Why would she…


Spike glanced down and noticed his hand was halfway down his jeans. If he had any conscience, he’d probably be embarrassed as he slid his hand out. Instead, he smirked and rolled his tongue behind his teeth when he noticed where her eyes had wandered. “Well, aren’t you a right voyeur?”


She seemed to snap back to herself, her lips pulled taut in an angry line. Pity that. And why was she glaring at him like that? It wasn’t his fault his body was too hot to hide, was it?


“Where are we?” she asked.


Sitting up, Spike ran a hand through his messy curls. Great, now she had seen his hair was curly. His image was completely ruined. “No clue. Just stopped at the first motel I could find.”


“So you have no idea where we are?”


Did she have to shriek like that first thing in the morning? “Sorry,” he said sarcastically. “Was a bit busy bleeding and saving our hides.”


Then she glanced down, blushing again and surprising the hell out of him with the lack of insults. “Yeah… thanks.”


“Did you just say thanks? To me?” he asked, incredulous.


She seemed to shake herself out of whatever weird trance she’d been in and narrowed her eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”


“Wouldn’t dream of it.”


“Umm… Why did I wake up half naked?”


“Don’t worry. Didn’t sully your precious virtue or anything. I needed to stop the bleeding so I used your T-shirt… no loss there.”


“Hey! That was my favourite lounging T-shirt you’re talking about. And you better not have ogled me while I was all unconscious.”


Spike shrugged and grinned. “Can’t blame a bloke for catching a free peep-show.”


“Oh my God, I can’t believe you… you… pig!”


“That the best you can do? Must be the blood loss.”


Buffy tossed the pillow angrily at his head and swiveled on her feet to enter the bathroom.


TBC

 
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