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Not Your Ordinary Walk in the Park by Sandy
 
Chapter 3
 
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They walked for several more hours following a path that paralleled the stream until the darkening of the woods gave evidence that the sun was at last setting. They'd not spoken to each other more than was necessary, and Buffy knew their truce was tenuous at best. She still didn't understand why he didn't attack her. It was possible, she supposed, that he really did want to get home as much as she did and didn't want to take the chance that killing her would jeopardize that.

The forest had been much cooler than the meadow, and with the lengthening shadows the temperature dropped considerably. Buffy shivered slightly and pulled her jacket closer to her body. The path they were now on was narrower than the first one, and tree roots and rocks made the footing uneven. Buffy was stumbling a bit, tripping over the obstacles as her weariness increased with each step she took. She was loath to ask Spike to stop however. The last thing she needed was to remind him that she was weak now. Not that she believed for one second that he'd forgotten that little fact.

It was when she tripped over yet another root that Spike said in disgust, "You know, Slayer, if there were any animals around, you crashing about like a herd of wild Braxall demons would've scared 'em right off."

Buffy flashed him yet another glare.

"It's getting dark, you know," she snapped, hoping to disguise the real reason she was stumbling.

Spike raised an eyebrow and said, "So, night vision's gone with the rest of the slayer powers, eh, Summers?"

Buffy sighed and sat down on a large exposed tree root. "Yes, Spike. And I'm tired too. Can we just stop and rest for a bit?"

Spike looked around and pointed to a spot deeper in the forest. "There's a bit of a clearing ahead. We can spend the night there."

Not waiting for her, he headed in the direction he'd pointed out. Buffy wearily got to her feet and followed. The clearing boasted a bit of grass and fewer tree roots and rocks for which she was grateful. Spike was already sitting against a tree smoking a cigarette when she entered the glade. Buffy sat down as far from him as she could get and leaned against her own tree.

The temperature seemed to be dropping rapidly now and Buffy shivered again. She had dressed appropriately enough for a mild Sunnydale night. The brown jacket she wore was lightweight, but it was long enough that it gave her some protection as she sat on the hard ground. The jeans she wore were old and comfortable, and her socks and half boots of dark-brown leather were keeping her feet warm. As it grew colder, she began to wish she'd worn something warmer than the peasant blouse she had on. The natural colored blouse trimmed with bright blue and red embroidery was one of her favorites, but the thin cotton gauze material did nothing to help keep her warm.

"It's cold."

"Yeah. So?"

"So, you have a lighter and we need a fire."

"You need a fire, Slayer. I can do without it."

"Okay," Buffy said with increasing irritation. "I need a fire. Will you help me build one?"

Spike sighed as if he were being much put upon. "Go get the firewood and I'll light it," he said reaching into his pocket for his lighter.

Buffy closed her eyes and groaned. She was exhausted, but of course Spike wouldn't do the chivalrous thing and gather the firewood for her. Angel would have. Riley would have. Xander would have. Hell, even Parker would have before he'd shown himself to be a complete jerk. Pushing herself to her feet, she went back into the forest and began to gather up dead wood. She guessed she was lucky he'd agree to light it for her.

When she'd gathered as much as she could carry, she returned to the clearing and was surprised to see that Spike was setting down the last stone in a circle surrounding an area he'd obviously cleared. Buffy walked over to him and dumped the wood.

Spike eyed the pile and said, "Where's the kindling?"

"Where's the who?"

He gave her a disgusted look and said, "Christ, Summers, didn't your Watcher teach you anything about survival?"

"Yeah, Spike," she snapped, her irritation and fatigue overcoming her good sense. "He taught me how to put the pointy end of stake A into the dried-up heart of vampire B. You want me to show you my survival skills?"

He stood up shifting into game face. Buffy involuntarily took a step back.

Oh shit, she thought.

Before she could react he grabbed her, trapping her arms behind her back and her legs between his thighs. If he hadn't been holding her so tightly, she would have fallen over.

"Show me your skills, Slayer," he growled in her ear.

"Stop it, Spike."

"Or you'll do what? Seems you're pretty much helpless right now, aren't you, pet?"

"Let me go."

He slid his fangs down her neck. She stiffened but didn't struggle, refusing to show fear. The moment seemed to last for an eternity and then she was free and he was back kneeling beside the wood she'd brought, sorting through it.

"Kindling," he said calmly as if nothing had happened, "is dry twigs and small sticks or anything that will catch fire easily and get the larger pieces burning. Go get some."

Buffy turned and reentered the forest, more to get away from him than to obey his order.

***

Buffy would never admit it in a million years, but she was pretty impressed by the competent ease with which Spike worked at building the campfire. She just couldn't imagine why a vampire would need to know how to build a campfire.

And then she could imagine a hundred different ways a vampire might make use of a campfire.

And then she wished she'd left her imagination parked at the curb.

To change the direction of her thoughts, she asked, "How long do you think we've been here?"

Spike shrugged. "About twelve hours, I suppose."

"I wonder if time moves the same here as back home."

Spike shrugged again and continued building a little teepee of sticks in the center of the circle.

"If it does, everyone must be getting pretty worried by now," Buffy said quietly.

Spike cast a quick glance at her and said, "Imagine they are. Which means that your Watcher has everyone working on finding you. Maybe Willow can cast a spell, find us, and bring us home. Unless she buggers it up."

"Hey! Don't talk about Willow like that."

Spike just gave her a steady look. "We were engaged, Slayer."

"There were circumstances why she messed up that spell, and you know it," Buffy defended her friend. "She's getting better."

"I hope so," Spike said dryly. "I don't want another horrible experience like that again."

"The feeling's mutual," Buffy said huffily, dropping the conversation.

She sat silently, her arms wrapped around her knees, doing her best to keep warm until the fire was ready. She frowned a bit when Spike leaned down and blew gently on the tiny flames.

"What are you doing?"

"Feedin' the kindling a bit of oxygen to help it catch," he told her as he carefully fed more sticks to the tiny flame.

"You can't do that."

He looked at her, his forehead creased in confusion. "Can't do what?"

"Breathe."

"'Course I can breathe. Just 'cause I don't need to breathe doesn't mean I can't."

"But Angel said..."

"Oh, Angel said," Spike mimicked. "Well, if His Holiness the Poof said it, it must be true then." Bending down again, he angrily blew a large breath of air into the fire causing burning twigs to fly up and land on him. He jumped back with a curse and beat at the small fires on his coat.

Buffy barked out a laugh and Spike scowled at her. Standing up he snarled, "Build your own sodding fire, bitch," and returned to the tree he'd been resting against when she'd first come into the glade.

Buffy stared wide-eyed at the tiny fire that was now very much in danger of dying. Hurrying around to where Spike had been, she began shoving more twigs and sticks into it. She knocked over the little pile of sticks he'd built, and the fire went completely out.

She sat back on her heels and looked at the wisps of smoke - all that remained of the fire - with dismay. She turned to the sullen vampire and said, "Uh, Spike?"

He was smoking another cigarette and ignored her. When she called his name again he turned cold blue eyes on her.

"What?"

"The fire went out."

"Yeah? Too bad for you."

"Spike, please. I'm, uh, sorry?"

He rolled his eyes. "Don't strain yourself with the apology, Slayer."

"Well I don't know why you got so mad. All I did was say that..."

"Don't!" Spike snapped, pointing his cigarette at her. "Do not mention his name again, Slayer, or I swear I'll bite you right now."

It was Buffy's turn to roll her eyes. "Fine, Spike. No mention of he-who-must-not-be-named. Now, will you come here and start the fire again?"

He stared at her through narrowed eyes for a few seconds, then stood up, walked over to the campfire and flicked his cigarette into it. Bending down, he began the ritual of coaxing the fire to life all over again. Buffy moved out of the way and watched. After what seemed forever to the freezing Buffy, the larger pieces of wood were at last burning brightly.

"There's your fire, Slayer," Spike said as he stood and walked away from her. He cleared a patch of ground with his foot and lay down wrapping his coat around him. A wave of total exhaustion crashed over Buffy and she followed his example. The ground was hard, cold, and uncomfortable, but she was so worn out that she fell asleep almost immediately.

She wasn't sure if it was the chattering of her teeth or the shivers racking her body that woke her up. The fire had burned down to embers. Buffy stiffly got up and stumbled over to it.

"What are you doing, Slayer?"

"What's it look like, Spike?" Buffy said through chattering teeth. "I'm trying to get the fire started again. I'm freezing."

Her hands were stiff and shaking from the cold, her breath came out in little white puffs. "Come here and help me."

"No, sorry. Used up my full complement of good deeds for the day. Do it yourself." He closed his eyes again and went still.

Buffy looked at him in frustration and then said, "You could at least give me your coat."

"No."

"Why not? It's not like you need it."

"And what makes you think I don't need it?"

"Hello, Spike. You're a vampire, remember? You don't feel the cold."

Spike opened his eyes again. "Where'd you get a daft idea like that? No, wait, don't tell me. Professor Bulging Forehead included that in his lessons for not-too-bright Slayers. Am I right?"

"And you're trying to tell me vampires do feel the cold?"

"'Course we do. Not as much as humans do, but we feel it. So I'm keeping my coat, Slayer."

"But you said you didn't need a fire." Buffy hated the hint of whining she heard in her voice.

"Don't. Doesn't mean I'm giving up my coat."

Buffy turned back to the fire, but in the time her conversation with Spike had taken, it had gone completely out.

"It's out," she said dispiritedly.

"What?"

"The fire's gone out."

"Oh for... Come here, Slayer."

She looked over at him to see him lying on his side holding open one side of his coat.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm offering to share my coat with you."

Buffy's eyes widened. "You want me to sleep with you?"

"Not particularly," he answered. "But I don't want to hear you whine about the bloody fire for the rest of the night either. I need my beauty sleep. So you come here, wrap yourself up in the coat with me, and we can share body heat."

"You don't have body heat, Spike."

"Then we can share your body heat."

"Forget it," she said flatly.

Spike shrugged, wrapped his coat tightly around himself once more, and shut his eyes. "Your loss, Slayer. Have a good rest."

Shivers racked Buffy's body as a breeze blew through the clearing. Another glance at the lifeless fire helped Buffy make up her mind. Standing up, she walked over to where Spike lay and knelt down.

Fingering the small, sharp piece of wood she had secreted in her coat pocket, she asked, "You won't bite me?"

"Told you I wasn't going to, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I believe you."

Spike opened his eyes and just looked at her.

Another breeze, another shiver, and Buffy gave in. "Okay."

He opened his coat again in invitation. She lay down next to him and he wrapped his coat and his arm around her drawing her body up close to his. She stiffened and tried to pull away.

"For god's sake, Slayer, would you relax?"

She tried, but as soon as she pressed up against him, it felt as if his body was leeching what little warmth she had left away from her. She was just about to pull away again when a strange thing happened. His body began to reflect her heat back to her and she began to warm up.

She was just on the edge of sleep when Spike said, "Slayer?"

"Hmmmm?"

"If Willow does manage to pull you out of here and she doesn't grab me too..."

Buffy felt the tension in his body and finally believed that he really was as worried as she was about being stuck here.

"If she misses you, I'll have her do another spell," she told him softly. She felt him relax.

"Yeah, okay," he said nonchalantly. "Go to sleep, Slayer."

Within minutes, she was sound asleep again.
 
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