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The Ostara Project - Where the Wild Things Roam -- by Kismet
Rating: NC-17
Series Description: The Ostara Project (La Femme Nikita crossover): A dark fic which examines serious issues focusing on the whole Buffy/spike Slayer/Vampire relationship.
Description: Escape....to what ?
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, but author retains rights over story, which can only be used with author's permission. A work of amateur fiction and no copyright infringement is intended.
**In the Beginning there was a Garden. And in that Garden was a Rose, pure white. A nightingale came into the Garden, saw the Rose and was struck with Love. "I'll kiss her and warm her pale, cold cheek !" he cried. He did. And she bit him.
He grew pale and still as his Life gushed over her, but even in Death he fulfilled his promise. She became warm, and Red with the flush of Life.**
The doors slid shut behind them and they were alone again in their fragile world under a glass dome. And even though the world as they knew it had been shaken to its very foundations, they could not speak. Not when they knew others would hear.
'HOW DO WE KNOW WE CAN TRUST YOU ? WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS ?" His impatient, slashing hand had written across the sheet in acid yellow marker, barely visible to the naked eye and invisible in the black and white security tapes.
'REASONS OF MY OWN. YOU HAVE A CHOICE; STAY HERE FOREVER, OR TAKE THE HELP I OFFER.'
She trembled with the rage inside. Violation. Laid open and vulnerable. They had cut her open and taken a part of her out to put into a petri dish.
'WHY ? HOW CAN THEY DO THIS ?'
'DO THEY NEED ANY OTHER REASON THAN WHAT I'VE ALREADY SHOWN YOU ? SOMEWHERE OUT THERE IS A GRAVE WITH MY NAME ON THE HEADSTONE. THERE IS ONE FOR EACH OF US. THEY TAKE US FROM DEATH ROW, FROM THE STREETS. AS CHILDREN. EVEN SO THEY NEVER HAVE ENOUGH AGENTS AND TRAINING IS SLOW. HERE IS A NEED, AND THEY SEE YOU AS THE MEANS TO FILL IT.'
He wanted to comfort her. He had been through this before and had years to grow accustomed to the fact that human beings did horrible things to other creatures, and even to themselves. That's why his philosophy was 'Hit first and go for the jugular before they can hurt you'. If it was a bloody philosophy. Yet he couldn't touch her, not now that they.....But were these bloody pillocks brainless ? He could not father children. None of them could. It was a given.
'BREEDING STOCK. THE BEST SLAYER AND THE BEST VAMPIRE. THE BASIS OF A GENETIC EXPERIMENT TO CREATE A BREED OF FIGHTERS WHO KILL ON ORDERS.' One sentence to shatter all the fragile bonds they had been building over these past years. He wanted to bang his head on a wall with the frustration of it.
"Slayer ?" he tried, catching up with her easily though she had set a furious pace in her new trainers. "Slayer, are you alright?"
She could not look at him. To think that the lab-coats had put them in here expecting them to...Now she was acutely aware of him near her, of the timbre of his voice and the way the light caught in his white blond hair. How his eyes looked at her, how he had kissed her.
"As all right as I will ever be," she said grimly. First Angel, then this. Not that they could father children anyway...Her cheeks flushed hotly as she stamped up the remainder of the way to the house. This was Spike. This was mortal enemy here. This was irritating Peroxide Guy. This was Slay-Partner, Patch-up Man. This wasn't Angel, she reasoned. She shouldn't see him as a substitute for Angel...
When had she last thought of Angel ? She couldn't quite remember. "Are you coming ?"
The door snapped shut behind him.
She paced the living room. "Look, about last night...it was a freak accident, OK ? Let's just keep our hormones to ourselves, shall we ?"
Spike's mouth dropped open for a millisecond before he snapped it shut. "Someone here is obviously in denial. I'm not the one laying my head in your lap and feeding you cherries. And I don't have hormones, pet, a little detail you forgot ? In fact, I think you enjoyed the attention."
Buffy's face flamed. "That was just....a friends thing ! Can't you think with anything besides your....your...your crotch ? If I wanted attention I could just stake you. You're the one demanding attention !"
"I'm not the one walking around almost falling out of my clothes, love." He leaned against the doorframe and lifted one sardonic eyebrow. "Or rolling up to you in bed."
"I don't roll in bed !"
"Oh yes, you just rub against any bloke who happens to be there, how could I forget ? That's probably how you tortured Angel, the stupid wanker. Drove him over the edge swinging your hips, with that pouty little mouth, striding along with all that hair blowing back from your face as if you owned the world, making the soddin' ground you walk upon become something to be envied !" he yelled, growing more and more incensed as his mind turned his own words into images. Angel had kissed her, and he'd bet that she hadn't called it a freak accident. He shook his head furiously. "And to think that I would give my life to...."
Buffy's mouth was open and she was staring at him.
"....to....to.." he fumbled for the words, realising what he had just said. He was turning into a whipped puppy, a lap-dog, a bleedin' sap ! "Oh, sod it !" He hit the doorframe, forgetting to control his strength with the blow. The wood snapped and splintered under his fist. He pulled away, staring at her in frustration and want. Then in one convulsive movement he gave up and crossed the room, taking her roughly into his arms and kissing her, needing to tell her what he needed, what he felt but unable to say it in words. He could only show her.
Buffy felt the shock of his arms around her, pulling her against him as he lifted her off her feet, his mouth opening over hers, caressing, sucking and stroking. His tongue slid over her lips almost yearningly, making electricity tingle through her and shiver deep to her very bones. She could not find words to say how she felt then as an emotion as strong as the tide and as bittersweet as the fragrance of oleander and jasmine flowered to vibrant life in her. Her lips parted for him and his tongue slipped in to twine with hers, a human caress from a cold demon. She ached for him, for them both and all the things which could have been said so long ago and had never been voiced. The tears rose behind her lids and trembled on her lashes before falling like warm spring rain on his cold, angular face.
'THEY DON'T CARE IF THEIR WORK KILLS YOU. AND IF IT DOES NOT WORK THEY WILL HAVE NO QUALMS ABOUT KILLING YOU TO SILENCE YOU. THEY DON'T CARE AT ALL.'
His hands trembled as he held her, letting her slide down his length so that he could twine his fingers in her hair and cup her head. The kiss deepened in memory of those nights when he had heard her calling to him only then he hadn't known that it was her. An irresistible force calling and calling, wearing away at him, haunting him. His angel fallen from heaven, in his arms at last.
When his lips lifted from hers Buffy felt an almost physical severance. It all came crashing home to her that it did not matter where she was or what place she called home, where she belonged was in his arms. It felt Right in the way nothing had ever managed to feel right before. She rested her head on his chest as he buried his face in her neck, inhaling the scent and warmth of her, that salty perfume.
"You have the map ?" she whispered softly. He guided her hand to his back in answer. There, tucked into his belt, was the unmistakable outline of the thin tube.
"Tomorrow night ," he whispered. "You have the key ?"
It was tucked above the tongue of her left shoe. The hands of the watch she had found in the box ticked away.
'I'd fall from Heaven gladly if you were my Sin.'
The security guard nodded and smiled at Nikita as he opened the door for her. "Last one tonight ?"
She smiled back warmly. "Yes, thank God. They're not exactly the easiest of subjects, Phil."
His surprise was obvious and she raised an eyebrow at him. "Right about now you would be saying 'huh ?' "Her next smile was dazzling.
"It's just that..." he coughed. "I never thought you knew my name."
Nikita paused in the doorway, the smile still playing around her red mouth, then tapped his name tag with a polished nail. "It's all here, Phil." She chuckled. "Do you know what that tells me ? You're a very open man with no secrets to hide. I like that."
He could barely believe his luck as he followed her in, watching the way her long, toned calves moved below the hem of her skirt. He and his mates had often spent long nights talking lewdly or wistfully about the gorgeous blond on Base who'd never give plain security personnel the time of day, no matter that they were ex-SWAT team members. She could blow hot or cold, one minute Ice Queen and one minute sultry as the Amazon. And after all this time that he'd followed her in to unmanacle the teen and the freak, she was actually speaking to him like a human being !
He plucked up the courage as he approached the wall panel. "I don't know how to put this, not being a man of fancy words and all, but would you maybe like to get a coffee at the canteen together later tonight ? After you've finished, I mean."
She looked at him from under her lashes. "It sounds like a good idea. I can't tell you how long it's been since I had a normal conversation with anyone."
His first impulse was to pump his fist into the air. This was like winning tickets to the World Series ! He grinned widely at her. "Tonight then. I get off my shift at 11.00."
"Great. I'll meet you there."
He turned to flick on the panel, supremely pleased with himself. Just wait till the guys heard about this...
The teen and the freak were just heading up the path. The girl would be a looker when she got older, she was already hot enough now. Phil knew better than to tangle with experiment subjects, though. Particularly experiment subjects who could break a guy's neck as if he was a chicken.
"OK, people, we don't have all night," he drawled into the intercom, conscious of Nikita behind him. "Into your places please."
"Mr. Mouth up there missed his calling," the peroxide blond as he snapped on the ankle shackles. "I think he fancies himself standing with pistol at a starting line in a footrace. It would explain the aim."
"If I were you I wouldn't mouth off, pretty." The girl was fumbling a little with the full sleeves of her white blouse with the lace-up bodice. For lab rats they sure dressed 'em nicely. He keyed in the security code, then stood aside with one hand on his semi-automatic as the door opened.
Nikita took her hip off the table where she had been resting, going around to where she had her briefcase and a stack of folders. Phil began to body search Spike according to procedure, sneaking a peek at the operative's ankles under the table. Buffy continued fiddling with her sleeves.
"Have you attempted the exercises I gave you ?" the operative asked with her back to them.
"Oh yes, they were great fun, love," the vampire said sardonically. "Just peachy. We both just love playing 'Where's Waldo' when it's a jungle scene. We'll go for it."
"I always liked games with a little more firepower," Buffy never looked up from her sleeves as she stood beside Spike. "As a kid I was always the girl who played cowboys and indians, and the games in the video arcades where you have a trigger to pull. Where are all the guns nowadays ?"
"You have violent tendencies, Ms. Summers. As a parent I would not provide my child with a gun as a toy, but kids take their own off the streets in most places now, though I wouldn't expect you to be familiar with places where that happens."
Phil unshackled Spike's ankles. He didn't have a chance. Buffy's unlocked chains dropped to the floor and in one smooth motion she linked her fists and brought the strength of her arms down on his neck. With a snarl Spike was over the table, getting Nikita in the small of her back and slamming her up against the wall so she slid bonelessly to the floor.
They had 30 seconds before security came barging in, and he cursed as he took Nikita's security clearance card off her. Her innuendos had been clear enough. There was no way for them to get weapons other than what they could lift off the two unconscious people.
"Come on already !" Buffy hissed at him.
"You're forgetting the firepower, love." He took the pistol from inside Nikita's jacket and ripped the semi-automatic from the guard.
"I'm not killing anyone."
"Enough with the morality bit ! These people will kill you without thinking twice !" He grabbed her by the arm and they dashed out of the room. Lower level, they had to get down underneath the dome where the water main-line was for irrigation. "We're not playing games here anymore, Slayer ! Wake up and smell the disinfectant !"
"Games ?!" she said indignantly. "I don't..."
They nearly collided into the two security personnel who were barging around the corner, and Buffy's words cut off as her fist connected with the jaw of one of the pair. Her heel dug deep into his stomach, doubling him over in agony before she finished with a kick to the chin. The man's head snapped back and he landed on his back on the floor. Buffy turned to finish her tirade....and hit Spike hard across his back.
The guard slid bonelessly from the vampire's fingers and blood dribbled from his mouth as he snarled at her.
"You undead bastard !" She was furious as she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. "If I didn't need you to help get me out of here, I'd stake you !"
His fingers dug into her wrist as they rushed down the viewing gallery, towards the walls of the nearest security station. "He's still alive, you little fool ! What did you expect, that I deny what I am ? I'm a VAMPIRE, accept it, because I'll never be anything else."
"And I'm a Slayer," she hissed. "Slayer plus stake against Vampire equals big pile of dust !"
"And the fact that I've been helping you on the job and offed more vampires than I can count, saving your ass on more than one bloody occasion suddenly means nothing. I'd say that what I sodding do for you more than outweighs a little human blood now and then, ain't it ?"
"You don't do it for me, you do it to keep yourself from being staked by all your buddy demons out there !" She slotted the card through the slot and furiously punched the buttons. Moments later the steel doors slid back to reveal three security personnel, one at the control board and two others just getting ready to run out and apprehend the escapees.
A spray of gunfire burst out, screaming over their heads as they hit the ground and rolled. In a flash Spike had knocked the gun out of a man's hands and thrown him across the small chamber to crash into the one who had been rising from his seat at the board, reaching for his gun. Buffy leapt, kicking the gun out of the hands of the third before driving hard blows into his sides, where the kidneys were. The guard was a big man, and struck her across the face even as Spike pounded on the control board, shutting and locking the doors.
One of the men drove his rifle butt into Spike's back. It was the last thing he would do. In one blurringly swift move the vampire swung around and tore out his throat. Blood fountained.
Buffy caught the guard's foot as he made to kick her and twisted, sending him crashing down next to her. "Spike !" she shouted.
The peroxide blond never looked up, his blood-covered face at the weeping wound which was all that was left of the man's neck.
"Spike, damnit !" Buffy launched herself at him, her fist impacting into his side and her other fist snapping into his jaw when he turned to push her away. All her force went behind that blow and he stumbled away from the man.
Arms wrapped around Buffy from behind, one squeezing around her ribcage and a large hand squeezing her neck. Kicking, she was lifted off the ground as the guard sought to crush the air from her lungs.
No way, buster ! she thought, lifting her foot and swinging her heel back into his groin. He dropped her like a hot potato as Spike went back to feeding, draining the last dregs from the man.
The guard must have had balls of steel. He managed to stay on his feet and even blocked her blows as the sirens began screaming outside. She hit him again and sent him crashing back against the console under the screens, stumbling over the body of one of his fallen comrades.
Buffy glanced up and cursed. On three monitors she could see guards rushing into the dome. She had to figure out how to open the trapdoor in the floor that Nikita's map had shown them, but she didn't know zilch about computers. She jabbed at a few buttons in random. The machines beeped at her shrilly for her efforts.
The muzzle of a gun pushed itself into her temple and she froze as the guard rose behind her.
"Don't move unless you want me to blow your brains out," he said hoarsely, his arm coming up and locking under her breastbone as he pulled her roughly around.
Spike was still crouched on the floor over the guard, his head moving gently, rhythmically as he licked at the drying wound in the neck of the body he held cradled in his arms. Buffy's eyes squeezed shut at the sight. She had seen something very like it once before in a documentary on the animals of South Africa. The lion had brought a zebra down by the throat just like that, and just like that he had lapped up the blood that gushed from the dying animal's torn neck.
"Get up ! Slowly, or I'll put a bullet in her head !" The guard squeezed harder, and it felt as if he was going to try and break her ribs. The muzzle of the gun was cold against her skin.
When Spike looked up it was with the yellow eyes and ridges of his demon face. His cheeks, his neck, nose and brow were smeared with blood.
"Monster," the guard said in something almost like horror. "They've made a bloody monster."
"Not quite, mate," The British accent came quite improbably out of that face, then Spike brought up the muzzle of Nikita's pistol and shot the guard right between the eyes.
Buffy stood stock still as the man's arms fell from around her and he crumpled backwards to the floor, dead.
Quite calmly Spike ripped off his dark red outer shirt and used it to wipe the blood from his now-human face as he reached the console in one stride, and with a few dexterous keystrokes, opened the portal in the floor. Outside, the pounding on the doors had given way to the whirr of cutters.
"Slayer," he said, taking her by the arm. His fingers were warm, his pale skin almost ruddy from so much blood.
He had killed right in front of her, then saved her life. For the third time.
"Come on, Slayer, move your butt !" He was shoving her down the hatch as the first furrow appeared through the steel of the door. "Or I'll kill you myself !" Still stunned, Buffy couldn't seem to make her hands and legs coordinate to climb down the rungs embedded into the concrete wall. To help her on her way, Spike put his boot on her head to push her down.
"Do you have any idea how much I hate you ?" she yelled up at him when her feet finally touched ground. She hated him for more reasons than she could count. For saving her life, for making her deal with these mind-numbing moral arguments with herself, for being such a good soundboard when she was mad, for caring for her...
He landed as lightly as a cat behind her, the trapdoor shutting with a clang above them. Without a word, he grabbed hold of her, spun her around and kissed her hard enough to bruise on the mouth. "The feeling's mutual !" Then he was off and she found herself having to race after him in a very undignified way.
They were in the underground sewer system and it was pitch black so the only way she could follow at all was the very faint sound of his footsteps. When he realised she was falling behind he cursed and went back.
Buffy nearly screamed when out of nowhere a cold hand fastened tightly around her arm and she struck out blindly. There was the thud of fist hitting flesh, a 'whoof' or air rushing out of undead lungs, then a string of abuse so colourful that it made her ears burn.
"You deserved it, you inconsiderate, oafish, ball-brained...." Then there was the sound of shouting behind them and the metallic clang of the trapdoor being opened. A faint light appeared back in the tunnel along with the hazily swung beams of torches.
Her world tilted crazily and her breath left her in a gasp as Spike picked her up as if she weighed nothing and darted off.
"Slayer, when we get out of here remind me to teach you some proper cuss-words."
Left, right, right, left, right, right. He hadn't grown up in the alleys of London for nothing. As he had often done in his long and colourful life, Spike found himself thanking his lucky stars that he had the age he had, and Angelus' bloodline for the strength and speed it gave him. All the blood he had swallowed was flushing through his system and he felt like he could run for miles even with the Slayer in his arms hanging on for dear life. The sounds of pursuit were getting fainter, but he had seen these people in action and he was not going to underestimate them.
"You didn't hit her too hard, did you ?"
"Who ?"
"Nikita. You didn't hurt her, did you ?"
"WHY are you thinking about her of all bloody people now of all soddin' times ?! We're tryin' to get out of this fuckin' rat's maze, for fuck's sakes, and I'm tryin' to remember the way 'ere !"
He heard her shocked little gasp and wanted to groan and kiss her at the same time. It was hilarious; she had been fighting demons since she was 15, been swallowed by a Bezoar, been killed and yet here she was gasping in maidenly affront at the use of the word 'fuck'. It was just one of the things that made her weird, that made her precious, that made his arms tighten protectively around her.
"Put me down, you bastard."
"With your short little legs you think you could keep up, ducks ? Toddling along tripping over things and gettin' us shot ?"
"Why you..." She drew back her fist and punched him in the side of the face. Hard enough to knock him off balance and they both fell with a clatter.
"There !" the shout was much closer than Spike had initially thought as he scrabbled to his feet. A burst of gunfire rang out, sparks flying as the bullets ricocheted off the concrete walls some way behind them. "Bloody hell !" he swore. He hadn't figured that they would actually shoot bullets instead of tranquillisers. It gave him a better chance of escape but upped the stakes dramatically in her case. "Slayer ! Where are you, you little idiot ?" She was nowhere to be seen, even with his perfect vision, but he smelled something like blood.
Buffy thought her head might split open as she reached up and touched it. The softness of hair was wet with blood. She had fallen and struck her head against some exposed piping, it felt like.
Spike came around the curve just as another burst of gunfire rang out, close enough that he could see the puffs of dust the bullets hitting the wall kicked up. His nostrils flared with the scent of her blood. "Slayer !"
"Nothing a Band-Aid can't cure," Buffy winced as she sat up. "We have to get out of here, fast !"
"Which we would have if you hadn't given me a bloody knuckle sandwich !"
"Can't you ever stop arguing for once and just shut up ?"
"Not living my un-life beside you, I can't. You're a bloody pain in the ass, you know that ?" Spike looked around swiftly. The tunnel was large, faintly round with walls that curved up to meet in the form of a rough ceiling. On both sides were dry pathways and in the centre the rushing stream of dark water that was giving off that wet, dank smell that permeated the place.
"Come on, Slayer, it looks like we're going for a little swim..." Before he could finish his sentence she was already sliding into the water like a seal, pulling him in by the ankle so he splashed and floundered. The current caught them both immediately, sweeping them like pieces of debris into the very center of its swirl and carrying them far away from their pursuers to an unknown fate.
"They're gone !" were the first words out of Graham's mouth as he burst into Michael's room. "They knocked out Nikita and the security guard with her during a session. Operations is on the other end of the line and he's furious."
The other team commander merely looked up. "He shouldn't be worried. They can't go far or get off the island."
"Tell that to Operations. He wants all team members on it, including Nikita." Graham didn't look too pleased about that. "In my opinion she should be excluded from this mission."
Michael stood. "Why tell me this ? Put your worries to Operations."
"You know damn well why," Graham glared. "She was your pupil, and it seems to me that you never cut the apron string."
"Seems ?" Michael came around the front of the desk leisurely to face the other man. "What are you trying to say ?"
Graham sneered. "You figure it out, since you think you've always got the right answers. I don't know why Madeleine hasn't done anything about you two yet even with you running around after her skirts as if she was a bitch in heat..." Then he couldn't say very much more, because a blade had appeared almost magically in Michael's hand and was now pressed lovingly into the fold of his neck.
Michael never changed expression. "Be careful, words can kill you in places like this. Or in the jungle, where things happen that no one sees."
The taller operative stood rigid, not moving a hair as he held Michael's brown gaze, but his nostrils were flared and the skin of his temples moved as he clenched his jaw.
Michael appeared to lose interest. The blade disappeared so swiftly it might never have been there in the first place if not for the weeping cut on Graham's neck. Almost disdainfully, he turned his back on the man, cleaning the knife on a fine linen handkerchief. "Alert all operatives, then suit up. We're moving out."
Only when the door slammed behind Graham did he reach over to the communications console and push in a number.
"Yes ?" said an unmistakable female voice.
"Nikita, what do you think you're doing ?"
The pair of tiny barking deer were drinking peacefully at the lip of the lake, their delicate muzzles making moonlight-tinged ripples in the smooth, dark surface of the water. The night was cool and fine and the full round moon sailed like a Queen in the night sky, attended by her handmaids the stars.
Cicadas chirred their shrill cries, combining with the faraway rush of a waterfall to fill the night with a background of sound that was occasionally broken by the call of a night bird or the rustle of some creature moving through the undergrowth. Ears twitching, the deer did not raise their heads. They knew it was as safe here now as it could ever be in the green depths of the jungle.
They were quite wrong.
The large predator hidden in the undergrowth was biding its time. A watering place was always a place where game could be found, but it was dangerous here too close to the haunts of two-legged Man, the strangest and most unnatural of all Nature's children who held Power in the form of gleaming, fire-spewing sticks in their weak front paws. But the predator was a curious creature in its own right, and knew enough to keep out of sight. Man hardly ventured out here into the thick of the trees anyway. There was a time when they had cut through the jungle with monstrous, whining metal beasts which were not alive, eating up the ground and tearing up the trees, but that was so long ago that the predator's mother and her mother before her had all but forgotten the old tales. Now Man preferred to fly high above in strange silver birds, which was fine by the hunter.
Soundlessly, he crept closer, his dappled hide making him all but invisible in the play of shadow and light. Gold-flecked green eyes were fixed on the deer as bunched muscles tensed for the launch....
A ripple appeared far out in the water, soundless, moving towards shore.
With a honking, hoarse call of alarm the doe raised her head and shied away from the water, her flank banging into that of her mate. Seeing that his chance was slipping away, the spotted panther sprang out of the brush, huge bounds eating up the distance. The deer had gotten a head start, though, and zig-zagged away, the male coughing harshly in the barking call that gave him his name.
Snarling his disgust, the panther dug in his paws, sending dirt flying as the water of the lake burst up into a spray of droplets and froth, sensing too late the thing which had frightened away the deer.
He pulled backwards, almost sitting down on his haunches in his hasty stop, leaping back as the figure came up out of the water on all fours.
For a long moment both predators looked at each other, green eyes locked with gold in mutual surprise. The smell of the unknown filled the big cat's senses along with the warmer, blood-rich scent of a mortal.
The other snarled, the sound of it carrying into the jungle as it put itself protectively, possessively in front of the human in the gesture of a hunter ready to fight for the prey it has just brought down. With a lurch the panther backed away then turned and fled into the jungle, the smell of wrongness strong in his nose.
The victor snarled again, looking around, feeling for any other possible challengers. When he sensed none only did he turn and drag the other figure fully out of the water and onto the shore. Crouching over her, he examined her for injuries and found none. Then he made a sound which was her name, tapping her cheeks which showed pale white in the moonlight. She would not wake and he knew the most dangerous hunters of all were following behind, the killers who killed for reasons other than Hunger.
Keeping up his deep rumbling growl of warning, he lifted her into his arms and melted away into the jungle.
Six teams had been sent out in different directions from their starting points at the waterfall to comb the area around the river, each comprising security personnel and operatives. They were equipped with night vision goggles since in a jungle teeming with wildlife heat scanners were useless, electric nets and tranquilliser guns. Dr. Goodman had nearly blown a blood vessel about their use of guns earlier.
Their orders were to search through every square inch of jungle and bring back the escapees at any cost. By no means was this to be allowed to jeopardise the Project. The least of their constraints was time, because to quote Goodman himself, "They won't even make it halfway to shore without a map, they'll end up walking in circles." But he wanted them found as soon as possible before the jungle got them, or the girl died of dehydration. Or more specifically, Nikita thought grimly, before the effects of the hormones wore off and Buffy slipped out of fertile season.
"We're going downstream," Michael's voice crackled through the comm unit each of them wore. "North bank of the lake where we fan out in pairs. Orders are simple: bring them back ALIVE and unharmed." A pause. "Nikita, you're with me."
Dread balled in the back of her throat. Michael was more angry than she could remember him being for some time.
<i> "What do you think you're doing, Nikita ? This goes against Section's direct orders; in fact, it's enough to label you as a saboteur."
"I didn't do anything, Michael."
"You could be Cancelled if Operations hears of this. I won't lie in a report, Nikita." She knew what he meant, he still worked for Section and his loyalty to them came first as long as it did not stand in the way of his own aims.
"You won't have to, because I didn't do anything."
"You were in the room with them." He knew her too well. He had known she was going to do something, just not something so extreme. "Fitzgerald is a killer, Nikita. If he gets off the island..."
"Michael, before you lecture me you had better have proof that I did it." </i>
He had not spoken a word to her after that. Until now.
She was sitting on a swing the way she had used to do as a child. Swinging her legs back and forth, unconsciously using the laws of Physics to increase the momentum of the flimsy system of wood and chain to propel herself higher and higher till the ground was but a rushing blur and the whole world was blue sky and scudding white clouds in the clear warm sunlight.
"Faster !" she shrieked, laughing as she turned her head back. The unseen man added his laugh to hers, and his next push was so strong she sailed off the seat and into the sky like a great bird. She flew over oceans and lands, over and through the clouds, finally seeing ships and docks as she soared. Rolling hills and arid plains gave way to farms marked with ribbon roads that spread out like the spokes of a ragged web, growing closer and closer together as the patterns of houses and development grew denser and denser like delicate embroidery. She was flying over cities now, towns, and she laughed with pure delight before she fell from the sky, plunging crazily to the ground and to certain death.
She didn't crash.
She was sitting on a sunny patch of lawn in a garden which looked as if it had been allowed to grow into lovely wildness. Old roses climbed all over the high yellow brick walls and the branches of the large trees hung indulgently over wild masses of ferns .Shy, thirsty shade-loving blooms hid behind their bolder, sunny counterparts. Statues and whimsical ornaments peeped out of the delicious disorder which slyly led the wanderer down to a sunken area where there was a paved circle of ground surrounding a lily-filled goldfish pond. From her place she could look right down on it and at the pair of children playing there, the sound of their laughter sweeter then the scent of flowers and crushed grass and the warmth of the sun on damp earth.
What beautiful children they were ! The boy was about eight, with a shock of sun-streaked hair which fell into his blue eyes as he lay on his stomach, one hand stretched out as he used a twig to float plastic boats over the water. His elfin sister lay beside him with an energetic puppy between them, using another twig to tease the goldfish that came up to the surface to nibble at the ripples and join in on the fun, her long, beautifully curling mass of glossy black hair dipping its ends into the water now and then. She wore a flower-patterned white dress and her brother a too-large Donald Duck shirt and khaki shorts, exposing pale, almost delicate white limbs. Their eyes were huge and alight with laughter as the boy sang out, "Mummy ! Come look !"
"I can see you from here, sweetheart !"
She had not seen the woman sitting on the swing on the backyard patio in the shade. She was small, with a great mass of sun-streaked blond hair like her son which fell wavy down the back of the swing she shared with the man whose hand she held. They were a handsome couple and obviously still very much in love even after two children. She rested her head on his chest and he smiled, his white-blond head bending over hers as he kissed her hair.
"Daddy, daddy !" The little girl came running up the path, flashing into the sunshine past Buffy without noticing her, her little bare white feet taking her to her parents. "Look what I got you !"
"Thank you, precious !" The man stood, carefully staying in the shade as he swung his daughter high up over his head, making her squeal with delight. "Would you look at that," he said as he lowered her into his arms for a kiss on the nose. The child giggled as she stuck the white water-lily behind his ear and he waggled his thick black eyebrows at her. "It's almost the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, pet."
"Why almost ?"
"Because you," he kissed her on the brow before turning to the woman who sat on the swing laughing at the both of them, "And your Mother," he dipped to kiss his wife on her upturned mouth, "Are the two most beautiful flowers in my life."
"Unlife, darling." The woman held her arms out for her daughter. "Would you get us some lemonade ?"
"I'm sorry, love, but I can't."
"Why ?"
"Because you're not awake, love. You're dead."
Dead, dead, dead, dead.... Wake up, Buffy, wake up. Wake up, Slayer.
A giant hand plucked her out of the garden even as she screamed and fought, wanting to go back, wanting to stay and live the dream forever and ever and ever...
"Wake up, Slayer, wake up." Somebody calling her, somebody shaking her till her head rolled on her shoulders and bitter water rose in the back of her throat. Her stomach constricted painfully and she turned over on her side and heaved, retching as water gushed out of her mouth and nose. She was once more in her body with all its aches and pains and that horrible choking as she vomited water out onto the ground.
"Don't," she cried weakly, clawing at the damp earth and leaves she was lying on. "Don't, I want to go back..."
"Slayer," the familiar voice said in relief. "You had me worried for a few minutes." Hands kneaded her shoulders, holding her as the last of the fluid spilled out of her and she flopped back onto her back, more exhausted than she had ever been. "Spike ?"
"The one and only, pet." He was a shadow in the dark to her unadjusted eyes as he settled back beside her. "Pulled you out of the water after you turned sissy on me."
It was all coming back to her as she lay sucking the air into her lungs. There was no sky to be seen, only the shapes of branches and foliage from where they were between the huge root folds of a gigantic tree. They had been floundering in the water trying to get away from people with guns, then they had fallen over a waterfall into the abyss.
No swings or sunlit garden filled with the sound of children's laughter. Only the both of them. Together yet so far apart.
He will drink blood, won't he?
She curled up into a foetal position, shivering even though the air was warm and heavily humid around them.
"You'd better get some rest, love. I'll keep watch, but we'll have to move in two hours or they'll be on us." There was a faint rustle as he moved, then she heard the flick-click of the lighter as he played with it. A part of her mind wondered that it still worked.
"You'll have...have to f...find shelter for the day."
"Are you alright, love ?" His voice was strangely heavy with concern. "You're tougher than this, Slayer."
"I'm c..cold. So cold."
He bit back a curse. His clothes were also soaking through. "Sorry, love, but I didn't bring a coat and they took my duster. A fire's out of the bleedin' question because it'll lead them straight to us."
"Could you p..p...please, hold me ?"
His heart jumped right into his throat and he couldn't speak for a while as he tried to swallow it back down. "Are you sure of that, Slayer ? I'm cold too, remember ? Room temperature, vampire, member of the living dead ?"
"Please."
He could not believe what she was asking of him. After all this time, after those heated dreams where she said 'please' to him in a variety of ways, she was actually asking him to... He picked her up as gently as if she might break, lifting her into sitting position. Her shirt was plastered to her damply. She was damp, but her skin was still warm. And it was she who moved into his lap, huddling against his chest like a child as she closed her eyes. She was so close her heartbeat actually thrummed in his skin. He closed his eyes at the supreme irony of it. Two mortal enemies sitting heart to heart, and him still stained with the blood of his kills.
He could not have said when she fell asleep, but it was wondrous to watch her this way. In all the time they had Slay-ed together, he had never seen her asleep. Her face was smooth, relaxed and open, her slightly parted lips as soft and plump as a child's. Her warmth struck through to him, seeping into his cold limbs as though he was drinking it in from her. Even with her body against him in a fragrant jumble of succulent rounded little limbs, it was not the usual lust that rose in him. Rather it was a tenderness that was wholly frightening. Even with Drucilla he had only felt it's barest beginnings in the form of protectiveness. With this small girl it was as if he ached to wrap himself around her to keep anything from hurting her, to cradle her in security and to protect her from pain.
Which was sodding stupid because she was the Slayer. Born to take hard knocks, who enjoyed fighting and the adrenaline rush it gave her. Who was still mortal and tender on the inside as anyone else. And he was weakening, it was bloody awful the extent to which he had weakened ! They had given him his fangs back but she had wormed her way under his skin, damn her little black heart ! He had laughed at that wanker Angel for becoming her lap-dog, but now he could understand how she did it...she made you feel like you had to pick her up and shield her ridiculously tiny frame from the world, keep her in tissue paper in case she broke.
He knew that the logical thing would be to break her neck, and in so doing break her hold over him. He also knew that if he did break her neck he would be breaking his own sanity.
Buffy woke first, to see him staring down at her with a barely contained ferocity, almost as if he quite hated the sight of her.
"About time, Slayer." He pushed her off. "My legs have gone to sleep."
"You don't have a circulation."
"Let's just skip the smart answers, shall we ?" he snapped. "I should just leave you for them to find."
"It's us as a pair they want."
"They'll just find you another vampire. Put you two together for a while and soon you'll be climbing into his pants, won't you ? You have a thing for dead guys."
"And what's that supposed to mean?!" she demanded, reeling at the sudden attack as they began pushing through the undergrowth.
"Exactly what it means. It's the reason why you were my sire's girl, and it's the reason why you're with me now, innit ?" he said crudely. "Just tell me love, what is it about us that gets you off ? Because you find it kinky to sleep with someone who could kill you just as well as fuck you, or simply because we do it better? After all, Angel's had more than two centuries of practise and I've never been a saint."
Her mouth fell open. "How dare you say that to me ?! YOU want me !"
"Just as any bloke would want any available girl after three years without, pet. And you're definitely available." He ducked under a branch, picking up his pace ahead of her.
"You sick bastard," she said in fury, all visions of sunlit gardens and lemonade shattering. "It was all a game, wasn't it, all of this ? All the pretending...was it a three-year game to you ? Because you couldn't bite and couldn't sleep with anyone you played head-games with me as a substitute ? Answer me !" She pushed roughly ahead and swung around to face him, blocking his path. "Why did you kiss me ? Because it gave you cheap thrills ?"
His eyes glittered silver in the faint light at her, and she found herself shrinking inside as he took a menacing step forward. "Oh, it was a thrill alright. And I tell you I want to do so much more than kiss you, I want to just push you down and take you right here. I want to fuck you till you can't even walk." He was not even smiling as he came ever nearer. "Is that what you wanted to hear ? Well, I'll tell you something else. That's exactly what is going to happen if you don't start walking, fast."
His words struck her like blows, but she actually felt the beginnings of a warm flush from the pit of her belly for there was no mistaking the look in his eyes. Buffy was flushed with shame and anger, both at him and at herself. She raised her chin, fingers trembling with hurt and rage.
"Once we're off this island, Spike, you'd better not come back to Sunnydale. You don't speak to my mother, Giles, Xander, Willow or anyone. You don't even cross my path, or I promise you I'll stake you right there and then and flush your ashes down the toilet, and you'd better believe it. Truce is over and I want you out of my life. Permanently."
She swung around on her heel and set off at a fast clip to put as much distance between them as possible before the tears spilled over.
They were all exhausted. Constant training and work in the field meant that each of them was at optimum stamina and physical level, but as Nikita squatted down by the brook she felt her leg muscles quiver and she had to put out a hand to keep from tipping forward.
Missions did not normally entail whole-night searches through thick tropical jungle where the going was slow and they had to hack through some paths with machetes. And the leeches bit even through the black suits. But now as she hunkered down by the water, all she could do was squint at the light of the rising dawn in the hazy distance, and pray that they had managed to find shelter from the killing rays of the sun.
"One hour," Michael's voice carried across to all the members of the search party. "Then we move again. Our chances of finding them by daylight are doubled." His eyes met Nikita's across the expanse of ground. The challenge hovered in the air but neither one spoke as Nikita turned back to look over the water.
It was not so much a cave as a hole in the ground under an overhang of rock and trees covered by a parasitic mass of strangler figs. They could just raise themselves into a crouching position.
Buffy glanced over at him. She had put as much distance between the both of them as possible, but much to her self-loathing, it was as much to remove temptation as anger. He was lying on his back in sleep, head turned to one side and one arm thrown carelessly over his head as if he had fallen from someplace high in the sky. The mocking, hateful expression in his eyes was hidden by pale, blue-veined lids and black lashes lay in fine fans on his skin. A fallen angel at rest.
She moved uncomfortably, hating the stickiness of drying blood on her skin. The leeches had latched on to her as if she was their version of the Last Supper. As they had no salt and Spike had grown tired of holding a lighter to the disgusting black things, he had opened a vein in his wrist and smeared the blood over her. It had worked, because even the leeches wouldn't stomach vampire blood. It was also awkward-much to be covered in a thin layer of the blood of the person you hate most in the world at the moment, who also happens to be the person you most desire.
If only night would fall.
The man in black screamed as he tripped and fell, and the foaming beast wasted no time as it bore down on him.
The rapid spit of gunfire shattered the rhythm of the jungle sounds and left violent ripples on the surface of the savage green world. Birds and monkeys screamed overhead in warning and to a one the creatures both great and small scattered, all intent of escaping the path of the hunters even though they were hunting only special prey. One never knew what Man might do.
In the shelter, dark blue eyes opened in a white face.
"Man down. Wild boar attack. Over," crackled through the comm and Michael bit back a curse.
"It's no good now," one of the men on his team shook his head. "They'll have heard us a mile away."
Michael cast a glance back. The members of the team were fanned out as much as they could manage in the thick undergrowth without losing visual contact. Some distance away he saw Nikita. She was looking up at the canopy. It was dim on the floor of the jungle, because the thick cover only let through solitary rays of sunlight which shafted down into the green gloom.
It was pure bad luck, that was all. That the careful circles they had traversed crossed the path of the team.
"Target in sight !" Not a loud cry, but the white-blond man whipped around as if he'd been shot, the blur of his black clothes making him seem like a disembodied head in the gloom. With the faint whizzing sound of arrows cleaving the air the first volley of darts screamed towards him, and missed as he leapt as if reaching for the trees overhead.
"Good God !" Nikita heard the whisper. Twelve feet, fourteen ? There was a faint rustle as the target landed again, too faint for a landing from a height like that from any natural creature. He hit the ground running before they had any time to react, and there was a sudden flash of white and gold as he seemed to pluck the girl from the ground cover, the both of them dashing for the cover of the undergrowth.
"Two to the left and two to the right ! Cut them off if you can !" And Michael was off already, running as if he wasn't as tired as the rest of them as one of the team urgently sent out the call to the other teams.
Nikita felt as sense of dread as she ran, feeling the surge of adrenaline rush through her even though she wanted nothing more than for their prey to escape. They were all hunters in a pack who had gone for too long without sight of the prey. Now they smelled blood in the air and would run till they dropped.
Buffy and Spike were going with inhuman speed, but how long could they keep it up ? And how could they evade the sweeping circle that was already forming ?
For the first time she could remember since her induction into Section, she prayed.
He hissed as the ray of sunlight burned him, and the smell of singed flesh rose around them.
"You idiot !" she was screaming at him. "It's all your fault, I told you we should have gone further on last night ! Now you're going to barbecue slowly here with me holding your hand !"
How could she have the breath to scream and run at the same time, he wondered. Must be those bloody Slayer genes or whatever. "Not if you don't DRAG me into the cruddy spots of sunlight I won't, <i>pet</i>. And if you don't put some effort into it, Slayer, we're both going to end up back in the breeding pen !"
"I can't help it, you stupid sot, I've got shorter legs !"
"I'll carry you," he threatened. In answer she jerked him down and they both tripped and fell, rolling in the bed of dry leaves and damp soil that was the ground as the feathered darts bit into the tree-trunk in front of them.
"...though I had reserved that for the honeymoon." He pushed himself up, glancing to the left and the right, game face coming forward as vampire senses strained. One coming up close on the left, two on the right. More on their tail. They were going to close them off like a throttle-neck net.
"Has it ever crossed your dead brain that you haven't even proposed yet ? And I wouldn't accept even if you were the last man on earth !" Loathing dripped from her voice as SHE dragged HIM, zig-zagging to avoid the random shafts of sunlight. She nearly fell when he jerked to a sudden halt.
"We're never going to outrun them like this, Slayer."
Buffy glared, pulse racing from the exercise. HE wasn't even sweating. "I am not going to stand here and say die, Spike !"
"You don't have to stand, ducks. Just run when I tell you to, where I tell you to."
"Wha..."
The semi-automatic came to life under his fingers as if he used guns all the time, spraying bullets in all directions. Buffy's hands flew to her ears as the scream of the gun obliterated all other sound. Everything seemed to move in slow motion...
He threw down the empty gun. "Come on, Slayer ! What are you waiting for; them to get up and realise we've run out of ammunition ?"
They swerved sharply in another direction.
"Move !" someone was shouting as Nikita pushed herself up off the ground where she had thrown herself at the first sound of gunfire. "They're heading hard east ! I repeat, hard east..."
"Is anyone hurt !" she yelled out to the nearest person, Michael.
"No one's down, this was a distraction." Already he was running, a bloodhound doggedly on the trail. "East, they would head east."
"What's east ?!"
"The marshes." He spat an epithet in French that would have made her stare if she had not been straining for breath, every muscle in her body clamouring for rest. "That one has the instincts of a jungle cat."
She had shot someone, she had killed someone. Whatever dozens of rules she had broken in the as-yet-unseen Slayer handbook, this one blew them all out of the water. She had taken a human life.
The men had burst out on them from the right and she had just done it, instinctively. Pulled the pistol from her waistband and shot him. The dynamics of it wasn't so different from a crossbow except for the kickback.
The others hadn't even turned as he crashed to the ground. Just kept on coming. They just kept on coming.....They would have bagged her if Spike hadn't grabbed her and run. Running...she had been running forever. Would she ever stop running ?
"Just a little further, love. Just a bit more." Had she spoken aloud ? He sounded so concerned.
The ground suddenly sloped dramatically down from the crest of the hill. Unprepared, they fell. The world became a crazy kaleidoscope spin of trees, leaves, twigs, trunks and sky. This must have been how the angels had felt when they were cast out of heaven...fallen angels, crashing to the Earth.
"Slayer," he was shaking her. Had they come to a stop ? "Slayer, soddin' answer me already ! Are you alright ?"
The world focused again, became his worried face, the temples and jaw tense.
"I killed him," she said dully, looking at the gun that she was still, miraculously, holding. "I killed him with this."
"Well, it certainly wasn't your sharp wit that did it, love," he said with relieved sarcasm, taking the gun from her. "Congratulations on your first blood kill." Then he looked back at her and swore. "Slayer, come on now, don't turn all womanly on me now. Don't cry, you don't need to cry...."
"I can't help it," Buffy said almost wonderingly. "I've been such a crackheaded failure, haven't I ? Buffy, the Renegade Slayer. Broken every rule in the book. Shot her first man in cold blood. Some crusader." The tears were warm, why were they warm ?
He shook her. "Slayer, if you go soft on me now so help me I'll beat it out of you, do you hear ? I'll bleedin' take you over my bleedin' knee and beat it out of you ! That you've managed to live into your twenties is bloody achievement enough ! The others toed the line, and got shut into coffins for it ! They're dead, you're alive, no contest. You do what you have to do to survive."
"He's dead..."
"What's one man's life against all the others you'll bloody save when you kick the asses of my kindred on future nights ? Now come on !" He stood, holding out his hand. They were on the lip of the marsh now, and it seemed faint traces of morning's mist still hung over the sucking black mud and the mangrove trees.
She looked up at him, and took the proffered hand, but he had other ideas.
"If only the Watcher's Council could see you now, pet," he said moments later as he adjusted seamlessly to her weight on his back and her arms locked around his shoulders.
As they dashed into the marsh, one step ahead of their pursuers, Buffy burst into hysterical laughter which continued even after he had carried them both up into the broad lower branches of the trees.
They couldn't go any further. Ahead of them, like a forbidding moat, was black water and mud, waist deep in some places.
Panting, Michael spoke into his comm unit. "Break and regroup. They've gone into the trees." A little behind the rest of the team he saw Nikita.
She stared back at him, blue eyes expressionless.
He had hunted more for her than for himself. Now she knew why he had fed so furiously back at the Base, to ward against the coming nights of starvation.
Fruit was good. Squirrel was good too, once you reduced it into unrecognisable pieces.
The fire crackled between the both of them like a barrier in itself, and she studied the shadows it cast over his face as he played with his lighter. With the red glow of the flames dancing across his skin, he gave the illusion of being warm, almost human.
Click, click, click. Little spurts of blue flame in the dancing red light.
"Penny for your thoughts, Slayer. If you look any harder you'll burn a hole through my forehead."
"And that would be bad....how ?"
He barked a laugh. "Clever, aren't we ?" His grin was sunny, for once devoid of his biting cynicism.
"Actually, I was thinking of barriers."
"Barriers, love ? Out here in the jungle ?"
"In the old legends it was said that vampires could not cross running water, that they were afraid of the honest flames of a hearth."
"Yeah, and that's proven so true, innit ? I'm also scared of garlic and I forgot to pack my coffin." He reconsidered. "Actually, garlic can be quite off-putting to vampires. Like when it's on the breath of that overgrown kindergartener you call Xander." His black eyebrows rose as he threw another twig on the fire.
"I was thinking more of us. Not 'us' us in the sense of us, just..." Buffy floundered.
"Us ?" Spike hazarded a guess.
"I mean, we've been fighting together for what, years ? But we don't know each other at all, not really..."
"Sure I know you, Slayer. You're the one with all the answers."
Buffy raised an eyebrow.
"And that pack of losers for backup, that mouldy librarian Giles and clinically retarded Xander and Xander's ex-demon girlfriend Anya. The only one who's even remotely not in the loser category is the one who does the mojo, Willow, is it ? The redhead."
Buffy's eyebrows rose a notch higher. "Willow ?"
Spike backpedalled. "And your Mom. I love your Mom."
"Which really tells me that you know me. I see."
"Come on, Slayer, give me a break ! You've seen me without a bloody stitch on and I've seen you the same. How much more do we soddin' need to know about each other ? We just go out, hit a few people in the face, stake a few hearts and finish with popcorn and a movie ! What's with the sudden psych-exam ?"
He was more agitated than he should have been.
"There are all these barriers between us," she tried again. "As if we're locking some part of ourselves away from each other. All I know about you is the outside you, black leather, bottled blood, black car, Verdi and Obf.."
"Orff."
"...the Sex Pistols, Manchester United and Happy-Meals-On-Legs. But you save my life on a regular basis and I can't bring myself to dust you as you should be dusted. It's wiggy, and wiggy is Bad. Wiggy make cranky. See ?"
His eyebrows drew together in a dark line. "I don't think it's a good idea for any bleedin' person to show their inside to the outside world. You're just askin'..."
"To be hurt ?" Like Angel had hurt her. Like Drucilla had hurt him.
"Hit the nail on the head." He wasn't smiling anymore, and he had dropped the lighter without knowing it, sitting with his elbows resting on his knees and his feet flat on the ground, frowning at her as if she was a tangle he needed to erase from his life.
Buffy drew a shuddering breath. "If I asked you now, could you reach over the fire and touch me ? Or would some unseen force knock you back ?"
He stared at her.
The fire crackled.
Then he was with her and his arms were tight around her as they kissed desperately as if wanting to absorb each other into Themselves so there would be no more Buffy and no more Spike, just one nameless complete being.
He broke off to let her breathe, groaning into her hair. "Buffy, I...."
"Shhh." She kissed him again hungrily, tongue slipping past his lips and giving his tongue a stroke which sent a bolt right through his body straight to his groin. "Shut up and kiss me."
His fingers fumbled with the laces of her bodice, trembling as he fought to keep from just giving in and ripping it all off her in shreds. She smelled like warm bread and honey and vanilla and all things sweet, like sunshine and heaven. He nipped the skin of her neck and she moaned, hands sliding up his back, feeling the tensed muscles and slipping under the waistband of his pants, making him growl.
Finally the shirt opened under his hands and he felt the softness that was her. The skin of her breasts was impossibly warm, with a smooth, buttery softness that he couldn't have imagined even in his wildest dreams, velvety. He had to kiss, had to taste.
She clawed at his back as he teased unmercifully, tongue making wet patterns around her throat, down her chest, tasting the soft shadow under her breasts. Circling around the smooth weight of them, licking the darkly pink aureoles of her nipples.
She cried out when his mouth closed over her left nipple. He let his teeth just scrape over the sensitive tip, then he latched on, sucking strongly and making her toss her head with the pleasure of it. Then he did the same to her right breast, fingers tickling down her belly.
Her fingers curled on the hem of his shirt and contact was broke for a frenzied moment as she pulled it over his head and off him. Then she explored with her fingers and her lips, glorying that she could make his muscles leap reflexively under his cool, white skin. This was him, this was her, this was how it was meant to be.
Spike let out a strange sound, half whine and half groan, when her hand settled on the telltale bulge in his pants. "If you don't stop, love, I'm going to spontaneously combust."
"Oh dear," she said silkily. "I wouldn't want to make passionate love with a big pile of dust, now would I ?"
He growled and pushed her down onto her back, making her laugh out loud before he cut the joyous sound off with his lips and his tongue. She even tasted sweet, sugar-sweet.
He stripped the pants off her then sat back on his heels for an instant, just to look and marvel at her. She was perfect, every tiny detail of her. She was a Goddess lying in front of him, wanting him. She was Buffy.
Hurriedly, almost shakily he took off the last of his clothing, gleaming like a polished marble statue in the light. She opened her arms and pulled him down on her. The heat hit him like a blast from a furnace and he could have drowned in it as her arms and legs wrapped around him. He could smell the musky scent that came from the hottest core of her, and it made the demon in him rise to the surface impatiently.
"It's going too fast," he bit out as he lifted himself up on his elbows, looking down at her flushed face. "We have to stop for a bit, love, let me..."
"Say that again and I WILL stake you." She leaned up and kissed him, then dipped down and bit his shoulder, fingers encircling his hard length and smiling in victory when she heard him gasp. Then it was her turn as she felt his cold fingers part her dewed, wet folds like the petals of a flower, stroking the sensitive nub till she tossed and wept and begged under him. His fingers entered her, parting her and sliding in the slickness of her.
He shuddered as his face shifted and he looked down at her, straining to hold back. "Buffy...."It was a request that she could grant or deny.
In response she tilted her head to one side, baring the warm, golden column of her neck to him in a gesture of surrender that made his breath hiss between his teeth just moments before he bit her and the blood hit the roof of his mouth, washing away all reasoning as he drew back and pushed into her with one strong, fluid movement. She jerked and gasped, legs clenching around him as he began to move, first slowly then faster, harder as her blood sped through him and saturated his brain. Feeding from her, being in her, a place where he thought he never would be. And she was sobbing his name in his ears, nails raking his back as they both strained for it.
The world exploded for the both of them and he Swallowed her scream and his own cry with his mouth on hers.
They rebuilt the World as she lay cradled in his arms, listening to his contented purr.
Then they destroyed it. Again and again.
"They have a map," Michael said to Graham.
Nikita's hands slowed in the act of tightening the laces of her boot, but she kept her head down as a startled Graham asked, "How ? There's no way they could have gotten anything like that in the time that they had, and even if they accessed layout from the computers there is no possible way that they could remember all the details at a glance...."
"They're not moving in a random pattern." Michael tapped a gloved finger on the plastic sealed sheet he had placed on the ground. "Other than circling the lake to throw us off the track, perhaps, they've been moving steadily in one direction instead of in circles as lost people do."
"They're not people." The other operative pointed out. "Only Section knows the full extent of what they can do, and that's classified information even you can't *access*." The implied meaning of the words was clear. Michael might have made an enemy, and ordinary life in Section was hard enough without the added cost of enmity.
"Maybe." The finger traced the red line on the map that marked the escaped pair's movements. "Up to the moment they entered the marshes they have been moving in a more or less straight line. And on the other side of the marsh, on that line is one of the passes between the mountains..."
"Then the beach." Graham smacked his fist into the palm of his other hand in vexation. "They're heading straight for the dock !"
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