The scissors sliced through her hair with a crisp cutting noise. Buffy tilted her head forward.

"Think we should talk about it?" Spike's voice rumbled as he snipped some more of her hair.

"I said no."

It was too hot for her hair to be so long. Maybe it was careless to stop for a haircut, but Buffy couldn't travel another inch without getting rid of it. The mass of hair weighed at the back of her neck, soaking up sweat and dirt and exacerbating the heat. No, it had to go.

"Not like it's a trifling thing," he said. His fingers were gentle, even as they brushed through tangles.

"I said no."

Her hair collected at her feet.

"Demon of that type can be dangerous."

"Dammit, Spike, I said no!"

As Buffy jerked her head, Spike's hand slipped and cut her upper ear. Blood tickled down.

He was silent and still. Buffy figured he was moping or feeling bad about the cut. He did have that guilty soul, after all. She waited for him to keep cutting her hair, but he made no movement.

Finally, she sighed. "It doesn't hurt. Just keep going."

No response.

"Spike, I said keep going." She turned to look at him. A gasp escaped when she saw his demon face. He struck before she could react, sinking fangs into her throat and ripping wildly. Her body fell backward and the impact as she hit the ground jolted her -

***

- awake.

She breathed in reality, but it took a while to settle. Her hand shook as she raised it to wipe the sweat from her brow. Her hair was sticking to her face.

"You still got an hour," Spike called. He was keeping watch. That's what they had to do now. Short stops to rest, taking turns while the other kept watch. They were so close, but Buffy had never felt farther away from home.

Buffy ripped a thin ribbon from her shirt and used it to gather up her hair into a high ponytail. The end of it barely brushed the back of her neck. It felt cooler.

"I think I'm done sleeping," Buffy said. Without warning, she felt bile rise in her throat. In the next moment, she was huddled over, vomiting up her last meal.

***

Killing demons had never been like this. Never been so...long.

***

Buffy tripped on a rock. She managed to keep her balance, even though the terrain was precarious.  Spike's hand had already grabbed her elbow, though.

She snatched her arm away.

"Just trying to help," Spike said.

"Don't need it," Buffy replied. She pulled her hair over one shoulder, trying to keep the bulk off the back of her neck. It was far too hot for that. Too bad this world didn't seem to have scrunchies.

"I think we're being followed," Spike said. He'd backed off, keeping a distance between them.

"Of course we are."

Demons always followed her.

***

His lips were gentle on hers. They engaged in a leisurely exploration, synced in time with his hands as they wandered her body.

He was in his vampire face. She traced his fangs with her tongue. So soft. No blood was drawn.

He moved his mouth to her ear and whispered, "I love you."

She arched her head back, exposing the curve of her neck as he entered her. His hands hooked under either thigh. His upper body raised enough to gaze down at her as she watched him.

With a thrust, she cried out in pleasure.

With another, she crept her own hands up his chest. She couldn't keep them still.

Another thrust. His yellow eyes half-closed.

And another. She closed her eyes, turning her head to the side.

Another. She opened her eyes when he grabbed her by the hair. His body was right on top of hers. His feral face nose-to-nose with her. There was blood on his fangs now.

"You're a very stupid girl," he said.

Fangs thrust in her throat.

***

The shell cracked like a whip or like lightning or a firecracker. Yeah. Like a firecracker with the cinders raining down on her. They burned.

***

The fire cracked as it danced in front of her. Buffy couldn't remember when he'd made the fire. Her head was frozen thick as ice.

"You need to eat," Spike sat down next to her while handing her a piece of bread. His skin was scalding.

Buffy frowned. "Where are we?"

"Close now. Eat."

She held the bread but didn't eat. "Things don't make sense. Something happened..."

"Not something you need to worry about now. I'll deal with it."

She shook her head. "I'm the leader, right? We decided - "

"And when the leader's out of commission, which you are, I take the reins. Way it is."

He was drinking some of the stale, congealed blood they had brought with them. He grimaced after each swallow.

"Would you rather have my blood?" she asked without thinking. She remembered him drinking her blood once.

He gave her a look like she was out of her mind. "Right now? Wouldn't drink your blood if you paid me."

Buffy squeezed the bread into a tightly compacted lump, then let it fall to the ground. Her stomach flipped. She felt like her insides were doing cartwheels.

This time when she threw up, Spike held her hair away from her face and off her neck. He waited till she was done. She waited for the bite.

***

Fire had seemed like a good idea at the time...

***

It didn't come. The bite. Instead, Spike helped her lay back. He brushed the sweaty hair off her face.

She closed her eyes to rest.

***

Even though she had requested that Spike do the deed, she found herself eager to participate. She wanted to be elbow-deep in demon blood and guts and whatever else came inside the crusty exterior. Spike eventually stepped back to let her take over. It's what she had wanted.

Then the sting.

***

"Bloody annoying, is what it is."

Spike spoke. She kept her eyes closed. He thought she was asleep.

The fire sparked, and Buffy knew that Spike had thrown a stick into it.

"You keep going and going and for five years going. I'm tired of going." He was silent for a long time. Buffy worried that she had fallen asleep. Then he spoke again, "Don't wanna tend to you anymore, Slayer. You're better when you're yanking my chain around. Means I can rest for a while." He chuckled. "Been by myself for five years up till now. Discovered that I'm shit for company. That's why I need you."

Buffy attempted to keep the expression on her face neutral. The sudden sound of boot on rock alerted her to the fact that Spike was now pacing the cave.

"Problem is, you keep steering me in any which direction! Nagging at me for inane things...that she's alright with! She's human! Got her soul and everything, but you panic when she tries her hand at a bit of torture? Just not fucking reasonable, yelling at me with your fucking arbitrary morality. Tell you what, Slayer's got the right idea. Bit brutal, but needs to be in this fuckhole of a world."

Buffy had known he mumbled to himself. She'd never been able to tell what he was saying, though.

"When we get back to our proper world, you're gonna go. Don't fit right here, and I won't need you anymore. Got the Slayer, don't I? She'll let me know what the lines are."

Buffy felt sick again.

***

It was raining now, but she knew it had been for a while.

Water dripped down her hair, coating her skin.

"Quite a deluge, innit, Slayer?" Spike was beside her, but that was new.

She didn't know how she'd come to the position of pushing a wooden stake up against Spike's chest. Maybe she'd always been doing that.

"You're not gonna do it," Spike told her. His body was relaxed.

"Why do you say that?" Buffy asked.

"Cause I'm the most dangerous demon out there."

Buffy shoved the stake through his heart. His dust mixed with the rain.

***

"What time is it?" Buffy rolled over, aware of the mass of sweaty tangles surrounding her head. That damn hair.

"Day," Spike said casually. "Keep resting."

Buffy exhaled an annoyed breath and tried to gather her hair away from the back of her neck. Again. Spike didn't even glance at her.

"Have you seen him?"

Spike shook his head.

Her fault, of course.

After a few idle minutes, Buffy spoke. "There's a spot...on the back of the neck. I don't know if it's a Slayer thing or a Buffy thing. Maybe both. But it tingles when a demon's around, you know? Maybe vampires have something like it but for Slayers. I don't know." She laughed. "I don't know much."

Spike remained silent. Maybe he wasn't listening to her.

She continued. "I still felt it even when they sealed my powers. At first it bothered me. I think the coke kinda helped get rid of it. Or I just didn't notice the nerves on the back of my neck dancing like crazy.

"So I've been noticing it again now. I don't know what to do about it. Almost everywhere we go there are demons. You're a demon. I can't get away from it. It sometimes feels like that spot is my - what do they call it? Achilles Heel? Like it's my most vulnerable spot. If the demons only knew that..."

Buffy shook her head. She'd gotten away from her point. Did she even have a point? She remembered Spike's conversation with himself. That was the point.

She looked back at him. "I can't be your soul, Spike."

Spike's gaze met hers.

***

"Let me see."

His hands covered hers, but she held firm, hunched over and trying to keep the scream in. "Spike, he's getting away!"

"Move your bloody hands so I can take a look!"

Bloody hands. Very right. Her hands were covered in black muck. Demon blood.

Spike grabbed her by the back of the neck, sinking fingers into her hair. He yanked hard, pulling her body up and exposing the wound on her abdomen. Buffy yelped.

"Just let me help you, you stupid bint!"

***

Maybe she's not the one who needed help.

"Don't need any soul, much less you acting as one." Spike said.

Defensive, tough act. She was very familiar with that. She stood on shaky legs and started walking towards him.

"You shouldn't be up," he said calmly as he remained where he was.

"I shouldn't be doing a lot of things." Her movement cooled the sweat against her skin, almost like a breeze. It felt good. When she reached Spike, she grabbed his arms to steady herself. He still hadn't moved. "This is usually where you bite me," she said.

"You're off your nut."

"No. I just think I love you."

The back of her neck wasn't tingling.

***

Buffy's eyes were fuzzy like they'd been closed for far, far too long.

"Finally." Spike came marching towards her and laid a cool hand on her forehead. "Fever's just about gone. Wish we could afford some recovery time for you, but - "

"Dehevret?" Buffy's voice was scratchy with disuse.

Spike nodded. "How're your muscles? You up for the walk?"

Buffy stretched. She was sore with that feeling of malaise that comes after an illness. But she'd be able to work through it.

"Hey," she said while standing. "I didn't say or do anything embarrassing, did I? I think I was pretty out of it."

Spike had turned his attention away from her. Instead, he was packing everything back into the duffel. "You slept most of the time. Nothing interesting." He straightened up. "Ready?"

Buffy knew he was lying, but she decided to ignore it. She probably didn't want to know anyway.

tbc...