A/N: Previously: Spike and Buffy got captured by the Amazons and Buffy found out whose name Spike called at the 'crucial moment'. Also, Spike's testicles got threatened and now they'll have to fight against the odds to get out fo the mess.

All4Spike and BloodyHell beta'd this because they rock.

 

Chapter 14


“Bloody die already!” Spike yelled and planted his heavy boot in the middle of an Amazon’s sternum. The force of the hit made her fly through the air, at least half a dozen Amazons that had been standing behind her falling to the ground like domino pieces. It was marvelous.


“How many did you get?” he called at Buffy over his shoulder.


“Five.”


“I got six. You’re slacking off, Slayer.” Twist of the head, another bird was dead.


“Seven! Take that, vampire.”


“Still plenty to go around, Slayer. No need to hog them all.”


With his teeth bared in a vicious grin, Spike roundhouse-kicked another opponent in the head. The powerful blow sent the Amazon’s head rocking to the side so hard it snapped her neck. As minutes trickled by, the bodies began piling up, littering the ground and steps leading to the altar like broken dolls cast away by an uncaring child. This was what he needed. Both of them. To indulge in violence that had been steadily making them antsy for a good fight. In that moment, as Spike leaped and kicked and choreographed his movements to mold them to Buffy’s, he realised that fighting Buffy could never compare to the feeling of fighting by her side.


Back to back, together they were fluid and deadly, wreaking havoc on the female demon community with bone crunching impact. Buffy had surpassed him in the number she had slain but they were constantly neck and neck, chasing each other to the finish line. Spike let his instincts take over, the staccato of Buffy’s heart the soundtrack to spur him on.


Fifteen minutes into the battle, the unwavering stream of enemies kept swarming both him and Buffy in a relentless pursuit. Unable to avoid the sharp blade of a dagger as it swept towards his shoulder, nicking his skin, Spike dropped to the ground, sweeping the legs from under his attacker. The Amazon fell, knife clattering on the stone beneath their feet right before Spike rose and slammed his foot hard on her neck. By then he was already fending off another three attackers at the same time. He slashed at them with a dagger he’d swiped from one of the previous attackers and blood sprayed across his face. He licked his lips, his demon roaring at the hint of a taste. He hadn’t realised how hungry he was until the drop hit his tongue.


The bloodlust overwhelmed him, making him falter just for a second. One second long enough for his enemy to seize the chance and thrust her knife into his belly. He roared in pain, lashing out with the chain in his other hand as he pulled the knife out of his abdomen. The chain wrapped around her throat and Spike twisted, barely registering as she sank to the ground. Another two took her place. It seemed as though no matter how many he and Buffy killed, they kept coming, strong and resilient. He could feel the fatigue and pain creep into his muscles now, making him tremble with the effort to keep fighting.


There were at least thirty more of them and Spike was getting tired. Still he ignored the blood seeping from the slashes on his back and the open wound on his belly. Tried to ignore Buffy crying out in pain before the scent of her blood hit the air. There was nothing more he wanted than to turn around and make she sure she was fine, but he couldn’t for the woman in front of him was currently aiming a vicious kick to his midsection. He deflected her kick at the last moment, yanking her close to tear into her throat with his fangs. He barely got a sip before he had to let her fall and punched another Amazon in the face.


Right now he was running on pure adrenalin, hoping it would last long enough for them to make it out alive. In the darkest corner of his mind doubt flickered, threatening to blaze up into sheer panic.


They weren’t going to make it.


Behind him, Buffy gasped in pain right as the Amazon in front of him buried her knife into his chest, twisted and yanked it out. The agony exploding inside him almost rendered him blind. Spike’s knees buckled. Buffy’s heart beat frantically, skipping erratically as she struggled to fend off the attackers in desperate attempt to make a fatal dent into their numbers.


She’d never noticed him fall.


Right before his knees hit the ground, Spike punched the Amazon in the face hard enough to send her staggering down the steps. Sweet oblivion called to him, a Siren’s song promising bleak painless unconsciousness.


Buffy held fingers to her wounded side, slashing at her adversaries with one hand clutching a long sacrificial dagger. Drops of sweat welled up on her upper lip, her breath coming out short and ragged. It was when she slew another Amazon that she sensed something was wrong. She shot a quick look over shoulder. At the sight of Spike kneeling on the ground, one bloodied hand clutching at the altar, her heart froze.


“Spike!”


With a scream, she swept her dagger in a wide arc, killing four Amazons at once and rushed to Spike’s side. His eyes were barely open but still he fought to rise, his legs not listening to his commands. Then the ground beneath them rumbled with echoes of a small earthquake, wind whipped and howled as the oppressive energy of magic erupted around them.


Everything seemed to freeze all at once, the female warriors glancing around them in confusion. They didn’t know one thing Buffy did. They’d never considered that by trusting in her supposed need for revenge-- by trusting her-- they had dug own their own graves. It was either them or her and Spike. In the end, the choice was an easy one to make.


Only now did Buffy realize that the solution she’d been waiting for was as obvious and as simple as the fact they were going to survive. The answer was staring her right in the face, the crimson handprints staining the protruding stone altar.


It had been Spike’s blood since the beginning of the charade, and now Buffy rose to her feet, her fingers clutching the sacrificial dagger that was the key to everything. The key to commanding the enormous beast constructed by the sheer will of ancient magic, appearing from the rumbling earth as though it had just climbed out of the hell itself. It was a mass of rocks and molten lava, turning its glowing crimson gaze to her, ready to do her bidding.


What Spike didn’t know was that the torture she had been assigned to enact was merely entertainment for the bloodthirsty crowd. The way for his blood to flow upon the ancient stone and bring forth the real punishment. The beast commanded by Amazons since the very origin of their existence, their own mercenary to carry out their dirty work and tear apart those who wronged their kind.


And now Buffy held the power. And she was going to use it to save them both.


“Kill the Amazons,” she said, exhausted and triumphant all at once.


The screaming and feet pounding on the ground in the remaining Amazons’ fruitless attempt to escape the beast’s wrath faded into the background as Buffy collapsed next to Spike. The fear and pain and exhaustion slammed into her like a sledgehammer.


“Spike?”


He emitted a low pitched sound, barely moving.


“It’s over. We won.”


“Knew you’d… do it,” he gasped and coughed, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. “You alright?”


She smiled despite herself. “Asks the walking shish kebab.”


His answering chuckle sent him into a spasm and made her feel bad for joking.


“Don’t make… me laugh… Buffy.”


Spike calling her by name rather than just Slayer was a rarity that made her skin tingle with pleasure despite her aching muscles. Right at this moment, surrounded by carnage and hurting like hell, Buffy could admit to herself that she loved the way it flowed off his lips. Like her name was something to be cherished. Like she was.


“I can’t believe… you agreed to hack off… my balls,” Spike wheezed, offended.


Buffy rolled her eyes.


*******


After the beast annihilated the entire Amazon community, Buffy had bid him to go poof and never come back, broke the dagger in two pieces and buried it in the soil so nobody could use it for summoning ever again. Well, right after she had located the flip-flops that had flew off her feet as soon as she started to fight. She wrinkled her nose as she glimpsed the dirt etched under her fingernails. The whole Slayer gig sure was a bitch on her looks.


The skies were still dark but they had no idea where they were or if they’d find shelter once they decided to take the risk and travel tonight rather than wait one more day.


Also, she was starving and not in one stupid tent did she find anything even remotely resembling human food. What had the Amazons been eating? Buffy was sure she didn’t want to know.


She’d kill for pancakes right now.


“Spike?”


He was in pretty bad shape but at least he hadn’t passed out. That was probably due to the blood he had sucked out of the fallen warriors. She should be squicked. Really, she should. Except she spent half of her free time buried in demon guts, being the Slayer and all. At least this time there was no slime.


“Yeah?” he asked from where he was leaning with his hip propped against a tree.


“Do you think we should go now, or wait for tomorrow?”


“I say we go. Had enough of this hellhole for one day.”


Buffy approached him, peering up at him through darkness. “But what if we can’t make it to a shelter before the sun comes up?”


“Worried about me, love?”


“What? Of course not!” immediately sprang from her lips. It was a reflex, more than anything.


Spike shrugged as though her reply didn’t bother him at all but he wouldn’t quite look her in the eye. For a moment she wondered if she had the power to hurt him.


“Yeah, let’s get going then. Wouldn’t wanna waste any more time, would we?”


“Spike…” She had no idea what she wanted to say. Apologize? For what? A couple of kisses didn’t mean they’d travel down the road of star-crossed lovers complete with cheesy music and longing stares. Been there, done that. Too many people had gotten hurt.


“Just leave it, Slayer.”


Somehow the remote tone of his voice when he called her that stung her more than she’d like to admit.


“You should take your T-shirt off,” she suggested as he pushed himself away from the tree.


“Knew you wanted me naked.” He smirked, though it seemed a bit forced. “I’m hurt. You should know a man like me isn’t easy. At least buy me a dinner first. Take me to a movie, buy me flowers. Really, Slayer, is that too much to ask for a tad of respect?”


“So you’re saying you’ll strip if I buy you some junk food?” she asked with a cocked eyebrow.


“Make it spicy Buffalo wings and that fried onion stuff and you’ve got yourself a striptease.”


Buffy shook her head. “You’re so weird.”


“And you’re the one asking for a dance number. Again.”


“What? I’ve never—”


“Little hospital trip ring any bells?”


Oh. Right. She had. Damn him and his elephant memory.


“That doesn’t count.” Her lower lip jutted out in a pout. “And that’s not why I suggested it. It’s completely ruined. But keep it if you want. I don’t care.”


She turned on her heel and set out down the forest path.


“Buffy!” His footsteps sounded close behind and she slowed down so he could catch up.


His face was half-hidden by shadows, his pale skin almost gleaming with its own inner light under the moon. He was breathtaking.


“We made a pretty good team back there,” he mumbled, almost shyly.


“Yes, we did,” she said with a hint of a smile.


If only she knew what that meant, and why she couldn’t stop thinking about how being in Spike’s arms made the whole world with its petty problems disappear.


TBC

A/N: Don't hog your thoughts. Let me hear them! ;)