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The Game - Welcome to the Jungle -- by Saber ShadowKitten
Rating: NC-17
Description: Buffy and Spike are forced into a deadly game.
Disclaimer: This author does not claim to own Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Buffy slowly struggled to consciousness, her whole body protesting at the thought of coming back from oblivion. She tried to move her hands, but found they were tied behind her. *Ut-oh, not good,* she thought, prying her heavy eyes open. She saw wood in front of her nose. Carefully, she turned her head. More wood to the left. More wood to the right. More wood with holes in the top. *I'm in a crate. Why am I in a crate?*
Working on the rope that held her wrists behind her back, she concentrated on the noises she heard outside of the crate. She didn't recognize any of them. "Giles is so gonna kill me," she moaned. "He told me to wait, but did I listen? Nooo. Stupid, stupid, stupid!"
There had been a new character in town who had been following her for the previous few weeks. Human, as far as she could tell, but always there, always watching. It had wigged her out, big time. So, one night she followed him instead, against Giles' better judgement, and ended up getting stuck in the arm with a very long needle. And here she was. In a crate. Somewhere.
With one more yank, her wrists came apart, the broken rope dropping uselessly to the wooden floor. Buffy put her eye to one of the air holes and saw trees. A lot of trees. Not being able to deduce where she was from inside the box, she pushed up, the lid coming off with ease.
"I don't think we're in Kansas any more, Toto," she said out loud, looking around her. Everywhere there were trees and plants and greenery. The sun barely pierced through the canopy, bathing the area in shadows. The only thing out of place was another crate sitting next to hers with a large, white envelope duct taped to the top. Pushing herself up to the lip of the crate, she scrambled over and sat on the top of the other, removing the envelope from its confines. It had Slayer written on it.
Looking around her once again, she opened it and took out a type written letter. "Slayer," she read to herself. "Welcome to the Jungle, we've got fun and games, we've got everything you want and we know your name...I want to watch you bleed. Come on, I want to hear you scream."
She frowned. This was not a friendly letter she was reading. "Welcome to the Jungle, Slayer. This is a game where we shall see if you can survive. The object of the game is to make it alive to the 'finish line.' Other players are on the island...and yes, this is an island, oceans on all sides...who are competing against you and your partner. And what better partner for the best Slayer than the best Vampire? Unless you kill each other, first. Good luck! And remember - the first to arrive will stay alive."
Folding the letter carefully, Buffy started off into the trees, wondering when her life turned into a movie. She took a deep breath and sighed, then knocked on the crate. "Hello? Mr. Vampire? Anyone home?" She didn't receive any response. "Great. If I wait until dark to see who's behind door number one, I'll probably get a permanent case of death."
Thinking rapidly, she hopped off the crate and sent a well placed kick at the one she'd been transported in. The wooden side fell off as expected, creating a large plank. She lifted it up and placed it on top of the other crate, creating a sun-awning. Looking around, she found a few heavy rocks to lay on top to hold it in place. "Time to see who's home," she muttered, squatting under the make-shift shade.
She carefully examined the wall of the crate, noting the position of the nails. Relieved that she did it correctly the first time, she reached out and grasped both edges of the wall and pulled. The nails groaned as they came out of the wood. Using her head as a prop so the wooden awning wouldn't fall, she lowered the wall of the crate towards her, scooting backwards as it descended. As soon as she could, she dropped it, then steadied the one on her head. When she was certain it wasn't going to fall, she looked into the dark interior of the crate. "Hello?"
No answer.
Buffy blew at an errant piece of hair that fell into her face, then crawled forward, her senses on the alert for an attack. She could make out a figure curled into a ball on the floor of the crate, facing away from her. "Hello? Anyone alive...er, undead?" She tentatively reached a hand out and shook the vampire lightly, then with more force until he flopped partly onto his back, head lolling towards her.
She let out an agonized groan when she recognized the vampire unconscious before her. "What did I ever do to deserve this, huh?" Buffy asked to the world. "I mean, I'm good...most of the time. I do my homework when I can. I slay. I help little old ladies cross the street." She looked down at him, again, then sighed. "Why does it have to be Spike?"
Buffy shivered as night descended on the island. She had managed to scrounge around for what she hoped was non-poisonous food, finding exotic fruit hanging from some trees. No water, though. Earlier, she had moved the crate she came in opposite Spike's, the wooden plank held up between them, as well as dug small fire pit which glowed from the flames she'd created using the lighter he had in his pocket. He still hadn't come to, and she was getting worried. Not that she would admit it.
Arms hugged around her knees, she sat in the back of her crate, listening to the noises of the jungle-like area surrounding her. She thought she recognized a few birds and once a loud roar of a wild cat, but most were unfamiliar for someone who grew up in Los Angeles. Granted, she could probably hold her own against the smaller predators, but she was wary about the larger ones, especially the unconscious vampire less than ten feet from her.
She shivered again, then eyed Spike lying in the other crate. Or more specifically, eyed his leather duster. "He doesn't need it," she said, crawling across the dirt between the two crates. "Vampires don't feel cold, whereas Buffy does."
Carefully, so as not to jar him or knock him any further into oblivion, she pushed him back onto his side, tugging the coat down his left arm and bunching it as far as she could under him. Another shiver ran through her body, and she hurried, sliding him partially on her lap so as to get the leather off his other arm.
With a happy sigh, she slid the long coat over her arms, feeling the warmth and softness of the old leather, loving the smell of it. "Much better," she murmured, looking down at the vampire who's body was covering her crossed legs. "Are you ever going to wake up?"
As an answer, Spike moaned from somewhere deep in his chest. Buffy jumped slightly, startled, jarring him with her legs. He moaned again, bringing a hand up to press against his forehead. "Bloody hell," he muttered, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. She didn't move, her breathing and heartbeat becoming more rapid as she waited for him to open his eyes and see her. And hopefully not kill her.
Spike felt like the inside of his skull was going to split in two as he swam back from the darkness. He forced himself to try and concentrate on the world around him. He heard the sounds of night along with other, unfamiliar animal sounds. He also heard a heartbeat. A rather close heartbeat.
Wondering if Drusilla left him another one of her gifts that he always ignored, he opened his eyes. And immediately closed them again. "Please tell me I'm having a bloody nightmare," he said out loud.
"Nope," Buffy answered, to his dismay. "Sucks, huh?"
He took a deep, un-needed breath and sighed, opening his eyes once again to see her peering at him, upside down. "Any particular reason why I'm laying here in your lap?"
"I was cold," she answered, as if that explained everything. Which it did, once he noticed she was wearing his duster. His favorite duster. The duster he'd had for over fifty years. His duster.
"You're wearing my coat," he said angrily.
"Duh," she responded. "It's not like you need it."
"But it's my bloody coat," he ground out, his head pounding as his teeth clenched.
"Don't worry, I won't hurt your precious coat," Buffy said snidely, pushing him off her lap. He fell back on the ground with a smack to his head. Tossing the envelope at him, she crawled back into her make-shift shelter, hugging the coat around her body. She was glad she decided to wear pants the other night, rather than her usual Bronzing clothes.
Cursing, Spike rubbed his head again, trying to stop the little men hammering it, then picked up the envelope she threw at him. Opening the single sheet of paper, he quickly read it, then swore again, this time with more detail on what he was going to do to a certain blond Slayer as soon as his head stopped pounding.
Buffy snorted as she listened to his tirade, fingering the stake she had hidden in the waistband of her pants. She also had five more stashed on her body, along with the gold cross she wore around her neck. If push came to shove, she'd fight him and, hopefully, stake him. But she'd had all afternoon to come to the realization that if he was dust, she'd be alone, wherever it was that they were.
"Slayer?" Spike called to her, breaking into her thoughts. She raised her head, meeting his gaze full on as he sat across the dirt from her, leaning against the side of the crate. "How long have I been out?"
She shrugged. "You were out when I opened the crate."
"And how long ago was that?" he asked, exasperated.
"Since around three," she replied. "At least, that's what my watch said. It could have been noon for all I know."
His eyes narrowed, then he looked at the make-shift shelter, realizing she'd built it to block the sun's rays. Blocking them for him. "Are you saying that you've had all bloody afternoon to kill me, and you didn't?"
"Dumb, huh?" Buffy said, pushing her hands into her borrowed coat pockets.
"Why?"
She shrugged again. "Maybe I figured we'd had a truce before, we can have one again, since it would be mutually beneficial to both of us."
"How's that?" Spike asked, actually curious as to why she would believe he wouldn't kill her as soon as his head stopped threatening to explode at the slightest movement.
"Look, they gave me a partner for whatever game this is," she said sharply. "The best Slayer paired with the best Vampire, though where they got that idea is beyond me."
"Funny, pet."
"Anyway, it's obvious they wouldn't have teamed me up with anyone unless this game was way harsh and they were sick enough to want to give me a sporting chance," she said.
"Unless they wanted me to kill you," he added, bringing his hands up to rub his temples. "Cor, what the bloody hell did they do to me?"
"I got drugged," Buffy supplied. "My bet is you did, too." Their eyes met again, and they both shuddered at the thought of a drug powerful enough to effect, let alone knock out, a vampire. She brought out the cigarettes and lighter she replaced in his pocket and tossed them to him. They landed in the dirt at his side with a soft plop.
"Thanks," he murmured, extracting a cigarette and lighting it. He inhaled the smoke into his dead lungs, glad for the feeling of something to do with himself as he thought about what she said. That was the main reason he smoked to begin with, to busy his hands, the action bringing him some sense of calmness so he could think. He'd picked up a shrink one time that told him he exhibited classic signs of Attention Deficit Disorder and hyperactivity before he killed her. Curious as to what that meant, he'd taken the time to read up on it, finding it fit him to a T and gave some ideas how to control himself even more than taking care of Drusilla had given him.
But now he no longer took care of his Black Queen, and all his excess energy had no escape. His minions could attest to that, once they were able to speak again. Or any of the Brazilian night clubs he visited where he tried to lose himself to the hard music, feeding off the patrons, sometimes getting high from the drugs they had taken. Or any of his victims which he singled out for a long hunt, scaring him into running, then chasing him down like a fox does a rabbit. It was always a male, never a female, and he had to have done some crime that went against Spike's sense of immorality, which was extremely hard to do, but that's what made the hunt exhilarating.
Thinking about the hunt caused his blood lust to flare, and he closed his eyes to let his other senses take over, seeking nourishment. He could hear the Slayer's heartbeat and breathing as if she was less than an inch from him, the thick blood rushing through her veins. Forcefully, he pushed his senses beyond her tantalizing body and out into the jungle which he found himself in. There, about fifty feet away, another life was stalking quietly towards them.
Buffy watched him as he smoked, not breaking the silence between them. His eyes closed and he sat still as death, the cigarette burned down to the filter. She tensed as his game face appeared and he opened his yellow eyes to stare at her. *This is it,* she thought, making sure the stake was free of her waistband. But he did not attack her. Instead, she watched as he moved in a slow, fluid motion, almost rolling to a crouch and peering out into the darkness. That was when she realized she was seeing a predator. A predator on the scent of his prey.
He moved so suddenly it was almost as if he was never there, and she heard the sounds of two creatures fighting for supremacy, for the right to survive. Then silence.
Buffy let out a shriek when Spike's head popped around the corner of the crate, and he laughed at her. "Startled, pet?" he asked, settling back down on the ground on her side of the fire pit.
"Don't do that!" Buffy snapped. "There's all sorts of big bad things out there that could kill me."
"And I'm not one of them?" Spike said, arching an eyebrow at her.
She scowled at him, then thumped her head against the back of the crate. "Why me?"
"Got me, luv," he replied to her rhetorical question. He reached out and snatched the letter from where he dropped it on the ground, re-reading it slower this time. "Welcome to the Jungle... Guns 'N Roses," he muttered.
"What?" Buffy said, confused and wary of him.
"The first paragraph is from the song Welcome to the Jungle, by Guns 'N Roses," he told her. At her blank look, he explained further. "You know - Sweet Child of Mine, Don't Cry, Sympathy for the Devil?"
"Oh! Is that the one that goes 'Please to meet you, won't you guess my name' from the Interview with the Vampire soundtrack?"
His lips curled up in a smirk when he heard the movie title. "Yes, pet, that's the one," he answered.
"Stupid movie, great soundtrack," she said. "Although that whole adult stuck in a child's body thing with Claudia was really well done. God, that must have been terrible."
"That's why we don't make vampires out of children," Spike told her. "They have a tendency to turn on their masters."
"I know I would," she replied offhandedly. Then she cocked her head, realizing that she wasn't dead. "I take it we have that truce?"
"For now," Spike said, giving her an evil grin. She rolled her eyes, making him chuckle, then went back to the letter. "I wonder where this finish line is?"
"I think that's the whole point of this stupid game," she said. "To find it first."
He gave her a look, then continued. "I know that, Slayer. I was thinking out loud."
"Sorry," she replied, clearly not apologetic. She laid down and curled into a ball beneath the long, leather coat, resting her head on an extended arm. She went to say something else, but yawned instead.
"Tired?"
"Yeah," Buffy answered. "I went exploring earlier today. Found food, but no water or other shelter from the sun."
He nodded. "Get some sleep." At her wary look, he sighed. "I'm not going to eat you, Slayer. Truce, remember?"
"How do I know I can believe you?"
"You don't," Spike replied. "You're just going to have to trust me to keep my word."
"Like you did when you came back to Sunnydale?" Buffy said with fake sweetness.
"Hey, you said to leave, you didn't say I couldn't come back," Spike said.
Giving him one final inspection, she nodded and closed her eyes, knowing that she wouldn't sleep anyway. But the days events and the drug belayed her thoughts, and she slipped into sleep.
When Spike heard her breathing change, he stood and walked away from the low fire she'd built, allowing his human mask to slip away so he could see better in the darkness. It was time for him to go exploring himself.
Buffy awoke a few hours later to the delicious smell of cooking meat. Opening her eyes, she saw Spike sitting on the opposite side of the fire, working with something in his hands. Stretching, she sat up and was about to speak when her stomach let out a loud growl.
"Hungry, pet?" Spike asked with a chuckle, looking up from what he was doing. "There's some meat on those sticks there."
Without a word, she scooted forward and picked up one of those sticks, sinking her teeth into the juicy meat. Much better than the fruit. "Mmmm," she hummed, licking her lips before taking another bite.
Spike slammed his mouth closed with a loud clack when he realized he was staring at her lips, his movements becoming jerky. *Bloody hell, I've haven't had a woman in way too long,* he thought angrily.
"What are you doing?" Buffy asked between bites.
"Processing the wild boar," he answered.
"Huh?"
"Cleaning off the bloody bones and skin so we can use them, Slayer," he snapped.
"Cranky much?" Buffy said. His head shot up and he shot her a murderous glare. "Jeez, sorry."
Spike rubbed his forearm across his brow in a gesture of frustration. "No, I'm sorry, pet. There are a million things I'd rather be doing right now than sitting here in a jungle."
"With me," she finished, setting the now empty stick down.
"Now, Slayer..."
"Well, ditto," she interrupted, climbing to her feet, his long duster swirling around her as she stomped off.
"Great going, mate," Spike said to himself. "Get her brassed at you so she'll leave and you'll be stuck here, alone." He had spent the past few hours thinking as he explored the surrounding area, thinking that it was about time someone acknowledged he was the best vampire around, thinking about how he could have possibly got to wherever here was, thinking about the blond Slayer that had been the bane of his existence, thinking about how she stole his duster.
He finally decided that it would be better if they worked together, rather than him killing her, and had spent the remainder of the time stripping the wild boar he'd fed on, waiting for her to wake up. And what did he do when she did? Chased her off. With his coat.
"Listen, you bleached bloodsucker," Buffy's voice shot out at him from the darkness surrounding their little camp. "Do you really think I want to be here? Do you really think I chose to get drugged, tied up, shipped off to god knows where in a crate to participate in some stupid game?" He saw her come into the light, the flames creating highlights and shadows on her features. "Now, I'd rather have your help than to be stuck out here all alone, but if you want to fight, then we'll fight."
Buffy stared down at him, her whole body tense, waiting for his answer. There had never been anyone who could piss her off as much as he did. Not even Xander on his Angel bashing days.
Spike, on the other hand, was anything but tense as he stared back at her. All he could think of was how strong and powerful she looked in the flickering light, much like the character in his favorite comic book, with her wide stance, her fists clenched, her angry glare, his coat moving slightly in the breeze. All she needed was a wooden staff in her hands and he would have sworn she'd stepped right out of the pages.
"Are you going to answer me?"
He shook his head, startled. "Sorry...um, no. I don't want to fight you," he managed to get out, looking back down at the pelt in his hands. *I've gone completely daft,* he thought as she sighed.
"Good." Buffy sat down on the opposite side of the fire, crossing her legs underneath her, the coat practically swallowing her up. "Now that that's settled, let's get down to business."
They decided, more out of necessity than want, to spend another day where they were. Spike had found that the set up of the crates was quite adequate to keep the sun's harmful rays from him, and he was able to stretch his legs out to sleep. Buffy had drifted off about half an hour before he did, her entire body buried beneath his duster. His last thought before he fell asleep was that he'd have to get that back from her when he woke up.
"Damn," Buffy swore, climbing quickly to her feet as the noise of running feet grew louder. She grabbed one of the makeshift weapons Spike had created the night before, holding it in the ready position as her eyes searched the fading day.
The animal was huge, gray with wicked looking horns. When it saw her, it snorted loudly, pawing at the earth with its hooves. She didn't know what it was, only that it was about to charge at her. And at the temporary home.
With a sudden yell, Buffy ran to her left, pulling the animal into a chase away from Spike and his shelter. She could hear it clomping after her, its hooves undoubtedly kicking up clumps of dirt in its wake. Low hanging branches scraped at her skin as she ran further into the jungle, her enhanced speed keeping her well ahead of it.
She never saw the root that tripped her, the incline she rolled down, or the rock that smashed into her skull.
Spike woke just as the sun went down, absently noting that the fire had gone out. Pushing himself to a sitting position, he looked over to where he expected Buffy to be, only to find her gone. "Slayer?" he called out, moving from under the wooden awning. He stood and turned in a complete circle, scanning the trees for the missing girl. "Slayer, where are you?"
Frowning, he extended his senses, hoping to hear the familiar rhythm of her heartbeat that he'd listened to the night before as she slept. Nothing but the sounds of the animal life seeking shelter from the predators of the darkness could he hear. With a small growl of annoyance, he left the area for something to eat.
Stealthily, he made his way into the jungle, his game face prevalent as he sought out his prey. He smelled the blood first, the tangy odor which was dried, but definitely human. Then, he heard the heartbeat he had been searching for, low and steady as if in sleep. Or unconsciousness. Picking up his pace, Spike followed the invisible trail until he practically stumbled over the Slayer, lying face down on the hard earth.
"Bloody hell," he swore as he knelt, carefully turning her over. He noted the large gash in her head, the unnatural pallor of her complexion in the moonlight. "Slayer? Can you hear me?" She didn't answer, not that he thought she would, and he scooped her up into his arms. He tried to unsuccessfully climb back up the incline, but it was too steep. With a growl and a curse, he turned in the opposite direction and carried her off into the night.
It was a stroke of luck, really, to have chosen the one way that led to a stream, then a pool of water with an outcropping of rocks with enough recesses to hide from the sun that was slowly approaching. Spike gently laid Buffy down, then hurried back outside, stripping off his red shirt and dunking it in the cool water. He returned to the shaded area and carefully wiped the dried blood away to find that the gash was pretty much gone.
The bloodlust swelled in him as he continued bathing the cuts on her hands, but he ignored it with the centuries of practice under his belt. When he finished, he went out to the pool to rinse his shirt out, then laid it out to dry on a rock during the coming day. Running a weary hand over his once more human features, he sat down next to her to wait.
Of course, waiting had never been his strong suit. He tried to smoke, but found after the first three the only thing it was doing was running him out of cigarettes. He played with the lighter for awhile until he burned his fingers, then started throwing rocks out of the small cave like area at the pool, each landing with a small plunk. He'd even sunk to counting the number of ripples the stones made as they landed, but that only lasted until one hundred. How he ever survived being stuck in a wheelchair was beyond comprehension.
"Ow." He suddenly heard the moan coming from the blond Slayer at the back of their hiding place. The sun had long since crested the horizon as he scrambled to her. "Slayer?"
Buffy forced her eyes open to see Spike peering down at her, a worried expression on his face. "Did you get the number on that cow?"
"What?" Spike asked, wondering if her knock on the head caused brain damage.
"The cow thingy...oh, never mind," she sighed, bringing a hands up to rub her temples as she looked around. "This doesn't look like wood."
His lips quirked in a half grin. "That's because it's not, pet. I couldn't get back up that bloody hill you fell down."
Buffy pushed herself to a sitting position. "Well, next time you get the big animal to chase you and fall down the bloody hill," she said, mimicking his accent with the last words.
"Why did you go and do something like that?" Spike said.
"Oh, I don't know. There was nothing on TV, so I figured, hey, why not save Spike's worthless hide by luring the big bad charging animal away," she replied sarcastically.
Spike was both relieved and amazed at the same time. Relieved that she wasn't hurt worse, amazed that she'd put herself in danger for him. "Thank you," he said quietly.
"You're...you're welcome," Buffy replied, unsure of how to take his words. She'd never been thanked for saving someone's life before, especially not when that someone was a vampire. Usually it was just stake and poof, all part of her sacred duty.
He smiled at her. "There's a pool down there," he said, gesturing outside. "I can't tell you if it's fresh or not, though."
"Really?" she said, hurrying past him on all fours. She let out a whoop, then practically leapt down the rocks, the leather coat billowing out behind her. He watched as she knelt and scooped some water into her hands, tasting it cautiously, then more greedily.
"I take it it's fresh," he called down to her, chuckling as she nodded enthusiastically, still drinking. He settled himself down near the mouth of the enclosure and shut his eyes, his body exhausted from the long night and partial day of worrying about her.
When he opened his eyes again, the sun's position in the sky had changed and was shining down on the pool of water. Fascinated, he watched as the light caught the small ripples in the pool, highlighting them with colors he hadn't seen in a long time. The beauty of it could have stolen his breath away.
But what happened next, did. Even though he didn't breathe.
Inhaling sharply, Spike gazed upon the water nymph that rose up out of the water, sun glistening on the drops of moisture that ran down her body. She raised her arms, brushing back her hair, her heavy breasts lifting with the movement. His eyes trailed down her flat stomach and over her curved hips which the water caressed with small waves. She began to walk towards him, her fingertips dragging along the surface, and his mouth became dry as each step brought her closer to the shore, closer to him.
She turned suddenly, breaking his tantalizing view as she hopped up backwards onto the rock that jutted out over the water. She pushed herself to her feet, and he hissed through his teeth as his hungry gaze roved over the strong lines of her back, the curve of her buttocks, the muscles of her thighs and calves. She bent and he almost died again right there as she picked up his discarded red shirt and used it to dry herself. He had never envied a piece of clothing before, but he did now.
Covering that beautiful body seemed blasphemous and he ached to go out in the sun to take her in his arms and prevent her from redressing. But, he couldn't, instead he sat there and watched until she was fully clothed, then turned away with dark thoughts and a throbbing erection under his black jeans. *She's the Slayer, mate. Don't even think about going there,* he told himself as he heard her footsteps up the rocks. *Even if she's the best looking creature you've ever seen.*
Spike pretended to still be asleep when she entered the shelter, hands in his lap to hide the obvious bulge. When he'd given her enough time to settle down, he faked waking up. "Hello, pet."
"Hi," Buffy replied, running her fingers through her wet hair. "Sleep good?"
"Like the dead," he quipped, earning a giggle from her. "I take it you took a dip?"
"Yeah," she said. "It felt really good. After the sun goes down, you'll have to try it."
"Maybe I will," Spike replied, his eyes watching the drops of water trail down the back of her hand onto her wrist and under her sleeve. "Then we really should get started with the plan."
"Right, the plan," she confirmed, tucking her wet hair behind her ears. "I'm figuring it doesn't make a difference that we're starting from here."
"Not at all, ducks," Spike said. "In fact, I wouldn't mind if we stayed here for awhile." *So I can see your gorgeous body again,* he added silently.
"Sounds good to me," Buffy agreed, laying down on the rock floor, using his leather duster as a pillow. "Wake me when it's time to go."
Spike was gone from the entryway when Buffy woke up. Shivering, she slid his coat over his arms, then moved to the mouth of their shelter, searching for him. She didn't have to search far.
Moonlight glittered through the trees, bathing the pool in a soft glow as she watched him emerge from the water, his alabaster skin catching the light. Her eyes traveled down from his chiseled face to his lean, muscular chest and stomach, and felt her toes curl as the shadows made him more defined, more beautiful, like a moving statue.
He stepped out of the water and she swallowed heavily, her vaginal muscles clenching in excitement and arousal. She let her gaze follow the planes of his body, the corded muscles in his legs as he bent to retrieve his jeans before landing on the forbidden. To her disappointment, he was soon redressed in his pants and she scrambled back from the entrance, not wanting to get caught blatantly ogling her mortal enemy.
Buffy heard him climbing back up the rocks and tensed, forcing an I-didn't-just-see-your-gorgeous-body-and-really-really-like-it smile on her face. "Hey. Where did you run off to?"
"For a dip and a something to eat, luv," Spike replied, running a hand through is short hair. Buffy watched as the water ran down his hand and under the cuff of his red shirt which had finally dried. "I have some fruit for you down by the water."
"Thanks," she replied, willing her mind away from her naughty thoughts. "I can eat and walk at the same time."
"Shall we then?"
"Let's do it."
"Give it to me baby, uh-huh, uh-huh. Give it to me baby, uh-huh, uh-huh," Buffy was singing as they traipsed through the jungle in the dark. They went north, or at least what they thought was north, on their first combined foray for the mysterious 'finish line.' The moon peering through the thick canopy was the only light source, but both creatures of the night - one out of necessity and one out of duty - had no trouble making their way through the trees. "Give it to me baby, uh-huh, uh-huh. Uno, dos, tres, quatro, cinco, cinco, seis."
"Slayer, what in the world are you singing?" Spike asked, watching her dance as she walked in front of him.
"A song I heard on the radio the other day," she replied with a little hop and a skip. "It's called 'Pretty Fly for a White Guy' by Offspring."
"And that's music?" he said sarcastically.
"It's better than whatever it is you listen to," she replied. "Bach, Mozart, Chop-in."
"It's pronounced 'Sho-pan' and that's not what I listen to," he corrected. "I like the Sex Pistols, Radiohead..."
"...Bands I never heard of," she finished. He scowled at the back of her blond head. "How much more time do we have before we gotta head back?"
"Another hour, at least," Spike replied to her change of subject.
"I wish I knew what we were looking for," Buffy said. "We could have passed it and not even known."
"I think it'll be obvious when we find it, pet," he said.
"You sound so confident that we will."
"Of course," he bragged. "You're with the best vampire."
Buffy snorted. "Can we say overblown ego?"
"Watch it, ducks," Spike warned. "I can still kill you and take my duster back."
"Aww, is wittle Willy missing his coat?"
"Don't call me that," he growled at her.
"What? Little or Willie?" Her laughter rang out in the night as he growled at her again, and unbeknownst to them catching the attention of another team coming towards them from the west.
"Bugger off," Spike said, pushing past her into the lead.
She chuckled as she watched him stomp away. He looked different without the leather, younger, less tough but still very masculine. Deep in thought, she missed the branch that snagged her hair, catching her off guard. "Ow," she gasped, reaching up to free herself.
The two humans came out of the darkness, one tackling the Slayer to the ground, ripping her hair from the branch. They both fell hard and the wind was knocked out of her as his hands reached for her throat.
Buffy swore and grabbed his wrists, pulling them away from her neck and rolling so she was above him. She brought back her fist to punch him when the second human grabbed it. Using her Slayer strength, she yanked her arm forward, sending him flying past her.
The one on the ground took that opportunity to deck her across the jaw. Startled, she let go of his other wrist, and he pushed her off of him. They both jumped to their feet, circling each other. "Are you human?" Buffy asked as she ducked under his kick.
"I'm an ex-Seal," he ground out in answer, lashing his foot out again. The second team member got up and was making his way behind her.
"Great, human," Buffy muttered, her own kick landing in his gut, sending him back several feet. The one behind her wrapped his arms around hers and she sent her head back into his, breaking his nose. She raised both arms quickly, escaping his hold, then sent an elbow to his chest. He staggered back with the strength of her blow.
The first one recovered and came running at her, sending them both crashing against a tree. With a grunt, the ex-Seal grabbed her hair and banged her head on the trunk. Buffy brought both arms out to her sides, then rammed her fists into his sides as if she were clapping. He yanked her head down by the hair, gasping in pain, and drove his fist to her face.
The second human ducked in front of his team mate, wrapping his arms around her legs so she couldn't move. She blocked the next punch, but was having trouble keeping her balance as he banged her head against the tree again. All she had to do was grab the stake and plunge it into his neck, but that pesky 'no killing humans' rule prevented her from doing it. But Spike could. With that thought, she took a deep breath and screamed his name. "SPIKE!"
He appeared out of nowhere with a deadly growl, grabbing the ex-Seal's head and sinking his fangs into the neck. His gold eyes met Buffy's wide eyed hazel ones as he quickly drained the man.
The one holding the Slayer's legs got up and began to run as Spike let the body fall to the ground. The vampire was on him in a flash, knocking him to the ground and driving his canines into his jugular.
Buffy was mortified at what he'd done, at what she allowed him to do. Without a word, she took off back towards the pool, tears streaming down her face.
"Slayer!" Spike yelled, chasing after her. He grabbed her arm and pulled her to a halt.
"How could you?" Buffy yelled at him.
"What did you bloody expect me to do?" he retorted, human mask in place. "I'm a vampire, remember?"
"And I'm a vampire slayer," she spat back, a stake appearing in her hand.
"If you really want a fight, I'd be happy to give it a go," he said. "But if you start something, you'd better be prepared to finish it."
Buffy seemed to deflate before his very eyes, her body slumping, the stake falling uselessly to her side as her silent tears turned to sobs. "Hey now," he said softly. "It was kill or be killed, pet. This way at least I got a free meal."
"Oh, that makes it all better," she sniffed.
"If they weren't human, would you have killed them?"
Buffy looked up at him with wide, sad eyes. "Yes," she whispered, her lip trembling again.
Without another thought, Spike pulled her into his arms, stroking her hair as she cried on his chest. When she had calmed down, he tilted her chin up to look in her eyes. "I think we've gone far enough for tonight"
Buffy nodded, turned and began walking slowly back to their 'camp.' Upon arriving, she crawled into the crevice and curled into a ball, staring at the rock wall.
Spike sighed as he stood in the entryway. "We'll head south tomorrow night, ok, pet?"
"Yeah," she answered solemnly.
Spike's temper flared and he angrily left the enclosure, leaping from rock to rock around the small pool, climbing and descending as he tried to cool off. He was mad at her for being mad at him, for being mad at herself. Life was a survival game and he'd be damned again if he was going to go without a fight.
Sick of climbing, he stripped off his clothes and went into the water, diving under near the center to swim to the bottom. Once there, he let himself drift, his body floating towards the surface before kicking himself back down again.
He found her sitting next to his clothes when he broke the surface, his long leather duster wrapped tightly around her bent legs as she stared up in the sky. "I'd forgotten how beautiful the stars were," she said.
Spike stood in the water, the small waves lapping at his hips. "That they are, luv."
When he didn't move, Buffy looked over at him and gave him a quick smile. "I won't peek," she said, then raised her gaze back to the night sky.
He chuckled, wading to the rock that stretched over the water. He climbed up and slid on his black jeans, then sat next to her, legs stretched out, arms propping him up as he raised his eyes to the stars. They stayed like that in silence until dawn.
"I wonder how many other players are on the island," Buffy said as they headed south the following night.
"Two less than last night," Spike quipped, earning a dirty look from the Slayer. He chuckled. "I don't know, pet. Enough to make the game worthwhile, I suppose."
"Maybe we'll get lucky and not run into anyone else."
"I highly doubt that, Slayer," her replied. "My luck hasn't been the same since I met you."
"You make that sound like a bad thing," she said, grinning at him.
"It is from where I'm standing," he retorted.
"Wanna switch places, then?" Buffy joked.
"Funny, kitten. Very funny," Spike said. "Although I would like my duster back."
"Tough," she said. "I'm human, you're not, so I get to wear it." He grumbled something obscene and she giggled. "Stop being such a big baby. It's just a coat."
"Just a coat!" Spike said incredulously. "I've worn that coat for over fifty year!"
"No wonder it's so soft," she commented. "What about he rest of your clothes? Have you worn those same ones for fifty years, too?"
"I have not."
"Then why do I always see you in them?"
Spike scowled at her. "None of your bloody business."
"Aw, come on. You can tell me," Buffy batted her eyes at him.
"No."
"I guess I'll have to ask Drusilla then," she said with a shrug.
"You stay away from her, Slayer," Spike ordered.
"Why? Afraid I'll dust her?"
"More like I'm afraid she'd kill you," he mumbled under his breath in reply.
"What was that?"
"Nothing, Slayer. Just keep walking."
"Aye, aye, sir," she said, giving him a mock salute.
He rubbed a hand over his face and sighed dramatically. "Why me?"
"Must be that luck of yours."
"Oh, piss off."
They had gone as far as they could, not finding anything, before having to turn back to get to the pool before dawn. Once there, they crawled into the shaded area and fell into an exhausted sleep.
Spike's yell woke her up and had her on her knees in a second. Buffy's eyes widened at the green, moss covered thing that was pulling the vampire from the safety of the rocks into the sun. He was trying frantically to find purchase on the rock floor, to no avail.
Buffy launched herself at the thing without thought for her own safety. They both fell, tumbling down the rocks as Spike shot back into the shadows.
Never more glad that she'd stolen his leather coat, protecting her from scraping against the rocks, Buffy jumped to her feet at the same time as the moss creature did. Round off, back kick, punch, round kick, punch, her body flew into the fighting patterns, each hit sending the creature staggering from the impact.
Then her foot fell in between the rocks and she went down, hard.
Spike watched in petrified horror as she struggled to free herself, the moss creature approaching. His body was coiled in tension, wanting to go to her aid, but the deadly rays of the sun prevented him from acting. He knew better than to shout out a warning, any distraction could have her killed. *Slayer, watch out,* he mentally yelled to her.
As if she heard, Buffy's arms shot out and grabbed the creature by the legs, knocking it to the hard rocks. It scrambled to its knees, hands aiming for her neck. She acted as though she didn't see him, pretending to concentrate on freeing herself until he was within reach. A second later, the moss creature was dead, neck broken by her expert hands.
Spike nervously chewed on his thumbnail as he waited for Buffy to untrap herself. He wanted to pace, but there wasn't enough height to stand. When she finally crawled into the shelter, he grabbed her into a tight embrace, allowing his closely guarded feelings to surface.
"Spike, I need to breathe," Buffy said, breaking into his panicked reassurance that the Slayer was alive and well.
He let go, backing up on his knees to put some distance between them. "Sorry," he muttered, looking down a the rock floor, his mind racing, trying to figure out his panic and relief at the fact that she was alright. It shouldn't have mattered what happened to her, but it did and Spike was at a loss on how to explain his behavior or feelings.
Luckily, Buffy didn't seem to want an explanation. She lowered herself to a sitting position and removed her gym shoe and sock to examine her ankle. "Damn," she swore softly.
Spike crawled over to her and lifted her foot onto his lap, doing his own examination. "Looks like a sprain, luv," he said, gently running his fingers over the slowly swelling flesh. "You should get it in the cool water."
"Nah, it'll heal by tonight," Buffy told him. "As long as I don't have to use it, that is." His fingers continued to play lightly along her ankle and foot, sending tendrils of pleasure up her leg. She licked her lips.
Spike groaned softly when he saw her pink tongue dart out to moisten her lips. Carefully, he set her foot on the ground between his legs, then went forward on his knees, cupping her chin with one hand and bringing his lips down on hers for a kiss.
It was a soft kiss, tender and wary as first kisses tend to be. Cool lips met warm, sending shivers through both of their bodies, neither of them having done this simple act in too long of a time.
Spike broke it first, pulling back slightly to look in her eyes. He ran his thumb along her bottom lip, the black, chipped nail polish in sharp contrast to the pink tinge of her mouth. Without a word, he leaned forward again and placed a kiss on her forehead, then moved so he was sitting next to her, his back against the rock wall, his eyes closed, hands lying loosely at his side.
Then he felt something he never expected in a million years - Buffy climbing into his lap and initiating another kiss.
The kiss was passionate, but not less tender than the first one as Spike brought his hand up under the coat and around her waist. Her own hands were holding his face as she led their tongues into an erotic dance. He let his fingers loose under her shirt, tracing random patterns on her skin, making her tremble.
She was the one who shrugged the leather duster off of her shoulders, then broke the kiss to remove her shirt and bra in one quick movement. He inhaled sharply as his eyes caressed the same skin he'd seen a few days before bathed in the sunlight, water running down her form. He ran his hands lightly up her sides, then brought one around her neck to pull her into another kiss.
Buffy's own hands began to knead at his shoulders and chest as he began kissing down her jaw, to her neck, his tongue dipping into the hollow of her throat. She moaned quietly as he moved lower, capturing first one breast, then the other between his lips, licking and nipping at her tender skin, sending tremors of excitement through her body. She rocked against him unconsciously, feeling his arousal through his jeans.
Spike groaned when she rubbed against him, breaking off his ministrations to look into her eyes. He saw desire burning behind them, mimicking his own blue gaze and he quickly lifted her from his lap, setting her aside so he could spread the leather coat across the rock floor and remove his shirt and T-shirt.
Her lips quirked into a small smile and she scooted onto the soft material, toeing off her other shoe and sock. With a gentleness she didn't know he possessed, he laid down next to her and ran one hand slowly down her body, from her throat to her navel, his eyes never leaving hers. His hand dipped lower under the waistband of her pants, caressing her abdomen before finding the nest of curls that protected her womanhood.
She gasped when he touched her silken folds, her hips arching instinctively into his hand. He gave her a tender smile, then moved to remove her last vestiges of clothing. Returning to her side, he let his eyes travel down her body the same way his hand did moments before, burning her with anticipation. When he brought his gaze back to her face, he bent his head and captured her lips in another kiss, his hand once again brushing against her curls.
His fingers danced over her most sensitive spot, causing her to arch and writhe under his ministrations. He gently pushed inside her with those same fingers, preparing her for him as his thumb rubbed her into a frenzy. Soon, she crashed into an orgasm, her muscles clenching against his fingers as she broke the kiss with a long, pleasure-filled cry.
Spike took off the remainder of his clothing as she calmed down. When she opened her eyes, she saw him watching her, a blazing inferno behind the blue orbs, the evidence of his need pressed against her thigh. He was waiting for her, waiting for the invitation into her arms, into her body. With a small smile, she reached for him, wanting nothing more than to feel his touch, feel his cool body filling her.
He positioned himself between her legs, the tip of his erection seeking entry to her moist heat. Supporting his weight on his forearms, he caught her lips up in a fiery kiss, then thrust into her to the hilt. She moaned into his mouth as he let her adjust to his size. When she started rubbing her hips against his, begging for the friction, he began to move, falling into the rhythm of the ages.
He shifted to bring one hand between them, fingering her sensitive flesh until she burst into another orgasm, her screams echoing off the rocks and out into the day. Spike thrust into her three more times then climaxed, spilling his cold seed deep in her womb as her name tumbled from his lips by her ear, "Buffy!"
Sated, he lay on top of her, their bodies joined in the most intimate way. Buffy's fingers traced the muscles on his back as her breathing calmed and her heartbeat slowed. She felt his cool lips press against her neck under her earlobe in a brief kiss, then he moved, turning them so she was in the crook of his shoulder and she could see out of their safe haven into the bright, sunny day. Content, she let her eyes shut and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.
Buffy woke to find herself wrapped in Spike's leather coat and him gone, the sun having said goodnight to the day. Dressing quickly, she slid the soft material over her arms and crawled out of the enclosure, her eyes searching for him. He was sitting at the highest point on the rocks, facing away from her, the cherry of his cigarette burning bright against the darkness of the sky.
Spike could hear the woman of his thoughts climbing up the rocks to join him. He'd woken up as the sun went down and had left her to feed and gather some fruit. He'd also taken care of the moss creature's body, leaving it for the other predators to find. After he had finished, he climbed up the rocks to think, his body calm for the first time in centuries. And he knew it was because of her, the Slayer, his mortal enemy no more.
"Hi," Buffy greeted softly, not wanting to intrude on the peacefulness of the night. She sat down next to him, pulling the coat around her legs and looked out into the distance. "Are we heading that way tonight?"
"Yes," Spike replied just as quiet. He stubbed out his cigarette as he looked over at her, memorizing her moon lit features. He turned back to the jungle, his hand falling over hers, intertwining her fingers with his as they listened to the night. "Come on, luv," he said, helping her to her feet. The descended the other side of the rocks, hands still linked, and continued on their quest for the illusive 'finish line.'
"Spike," Buffy gasped, squeezing his hand as she came to a halt. "Look." She raised her other hand to point up the side of a cliff in the near distance.
Spike let his game face come forth and looked to where she directed. Up on the top was what looked to be a small shack with a bright orange wind sock flying on a pole next to it. "That has to be it," he said, letting his features melt back to human. "I doubt we could make it there tonight, pet."
She looked up into the starry heavens, then back at the shack. "You're right. Especially if we have to climb that cliff. That looks like it'll take most of the night in itself." They turned together, heading back towards the pool.
"We may have to do it in two nights," Spike said, his mind running with possible scenarios. "Which would require me being able to find some sort of shelter for the day."
"Wouldn't want you to burn to a crisp now that we're so close to the end," Buffy responded, giving him a smile.
"No, we wouldn't," he replied, returning the smile. They walked the rest of the way back in silence, each thinking of how close they were to the end, of how much neither really wanted it to end. When they got back to the pool, their eyes met and they came together with ferocity, their lips and tongues dueling as they forced thoughts and emotions away, replacing it with want, need and hunger.
Spike quickly shoved his coat off of her shoulders, lifting her shirt and bra off in one fell swoop. Kneeling, he pushed down her pants and panties, barely pausing to take off her shoes. He stood and shed his own clothing until they were both naked, the moonlight caressing their skin. He gave her a searing kiss, then picked her up in his arms and carried her into the pond where he first saw her beautiful body rising up out of the water like a mermaid.
Their coupling was quick and frenzied at first, each trying to prevent the coming days when their new found closeness would come to an end. The second time it was tender, loving, each seeking to memorize the other's touch, the other's scent, the other's body. Afterwards, they stayed connect together in the water, not talking, their foreheads touching until the sky lit up in false dawn.
Buffy went out during the day to find shelter for Spike as close as they could get to the rock face. She lucked out when she spotted a large, hollowed out tree big enough for both of them to spend the day.
She took the extra time to study the cliff, noting foot holds and pratfalls in the surface they had to climb to reach the top. She was not lying when she told Spike it would take most of the night to scale it, especially since they would have no safety equipment to aid them.
"Spike?" Buffy said later that night as they walked through the trees holding hands.
"Yes, pet?"
"What's going to happen when we get back to civilization?" she asked.
"I don't know, Slayer," he replied, his eyes searching for answers as if they were hidden in the jungle. "I'm a vampire who feeds off of humans and that's something I'm not going to give up."
"And it's my duty to save those humans," she said, sighing with the irony of her life. "It's not something I'm going to give up either."
He looked over at her, the first calming force in his otherwise hyperactive life, and he realized that once this was over, they might possibly never see each other again. On one hand it saddened him, but on the other hand it made him happy to know that he had attained as close to heaven as he ever was going to get without worrying that the real world would destroy anything they had together.
Buffy's thoughts paralleled Spike's, knowing that it would be almost impossible for a vampire and a Slayer to be together, to have the type of relationship that lasted. She'd already been through hell with Angel, and she doubted she could go through it again and survive. But she wouldn't trade this time with him for anything in the world.
That day, they curled up in each other's arms for what possibly could be the last time.
Buffy stood directly beneath the stone facade that led to the shack at the top of the cliff. "This is going to be such fun," she groaned, looking straight up, the darkness of the night surrounding them. "I hope you're not afraid of heights."
"A vampire who's afraid of heights?" Spike said, arching a brow at her.
"Hey, if you fall down, you get just as broken," she replied, blowing her hair off her face. She looked at him, then back at the cliff. "You do realize that we're insane?"
"Completely batty," he agreed, a huge smile on his face. His whole body was tense with anticipation of a real challenge - climbing the face of a cliff at night. "I can't wait to start."
"Here," Buffy said, sliding off the leather duster she'd worn practically non-stop for the past few days. "I'm not going to be able to climb with this on. I guess you can have it back."
"Oh, thank you, kind hearted Slayer," he said with false sweetness. "For returning what is mine."
She rolled her eyes as he put it on, then giggled at the pleased face he made now that the leather was back on his own body. "Can we go now? I'd like to get to the top sometime before the sun fries you."
In response, he grabbed her and planted a hard kiss on her mouth, then started up the side of the cliff, leaving a dazed Buffy. "Come on, pet, you're laggin' behind," he called down to her, already ten feet off the ground.
Buffy snapped out of her daze at his words and began to climb up behind him. "You know, when this is all over, I have a stake with your name on it."
"Promises, promises," he teased back.
Climbing slowly, their light banter waned as they got higher, placing their focus on the feel of the rock beneath their fingers and toes, the search for new hand and foot holds, the sense of balance needed so as not to plummet back to the hard, unforgiving earth. It was at about one hundred feet when they both heard the crashing through the jungle that was carried to their ears by the echo off the rock face.
Carefully looking down, Buffy gasped when she saw two creatures approach the bottom of the cliff. They were both hideous looking humanoids, with red, blotchy skin, large protruding horns curling out of their skulls, and sharp, scorpion like tails. She heard Spike swear fluently as he noticed them, then began to climb faster. "Slayer, best speed up or you're going to find yourself shish-ka-bobbed," he said from above her.
Not needing any more prompting, Buffy renewed her ascent in earnest, jamming her fist into hole after hole to hoist herself up the wall. Soon, her knuckles were raw and bleeding, each ram of her fist sending bolts of pain lancing up her arms. When she looked up to find her next hand hold, she saw Spike peering down at her from twenty feet higher, his yellow eyes almost glowing in the dark, the long, leather duster billowing out behind him in the slight breeze.
Sweat poured down her face and back, beading up under her breasts, making them itch. Her mouth was dry as dust and her legs were beginning to ache from the constant pressure on her toes as she continued to climb. Daring to glance down, she saw the two creatures were gaining on them and her heart started to pound in her chest.
Buffy yelled out in pain as the next hole she shoved her fist into ripped the flesh off the top of her hand. Blood poured from the wound, running down her wrist, then her arm, before dripping off her elbow towards the beasts below.
"Buffy!" Spike called out, starting to climb down instead of up at her cry. All his thoughts were on getting to her, helping her, making sure that she was to be the first to the shack at the top as the last line of the letter played over in his head - first to arrive will stay alive.
He reached her side, the smell of her blood almost overwhelming him as she continued to rise, tears streaming down her face. "Come on, Buffy, you can do it," he mumbled as he stayed where he was, letting her pull ahead of him. He was placing himself between the creatures and her, and he'd be dead before he'd let them overtake her or win.
Buffy didn't think, she only climbed, the face of the wall the only thing she saw as she pushed and pulled herself up the cliff. Her hand was on fire as she continually rammed it into the rock, ripping the remaining flesh and muscle away with each foot she rose. Three hundred feet, four hundred feet, five hundred, the cliff seemed to go on and on, the sky stretching out above her like a dark blanket, the moon bathing her in an eerie glow. And still she continued to climb.
She almost fell when she reached up to find air. Looking up sharply, she saw that she had reached the top. With a cry of relief, she scrambled over the precipice, clawing into the dirt with her fingers for leverage. She rolled onto her back when she was certain she was on solid ground, staring up at the night sky as she tried to get her rapid breathing and pounding heart under control.
With a savage yank, Buffy ripped one sleeve off her shirt and wrapped it around her hand, tying it tightly with her teeth, the pink ends flapping down like twin tails on a kite. Her eyes widened in horror, and she crawled on her stomach to the edge of the cliff when she thought of tails and peered down the side to see Spike fifty feet away and the two humanoids less than twenty feet from him.
"Hurry, Spike," she called to him, panic in her voice.
His yellow eyes flashed to her, then down at his pursuers. "Get to the shack, Buffy!" Spike yelled up to her.
"Not without you!"
"Damn it, Slayer," he practically screamed at her. "Get your bloody terrible at sex arse in that shack now!"
Buffy's world froze when she heard his words, ice running up and down her spine as she scrambled back from the edge. "No," she said out loud, hands pressing against her ears in an attempt to block out what he said. But the words came anyway, mingling in with the words Angel had said to her after he'd lost his soul. "No, no, no, no, no. It's a lie! I don't believe him!"
Her own voice snapped her out of despair and she searched around frantically for something to help Spike. She would be damned if he was going to die without her giving him a piece of her mind and a bigger piece of her fist. Standing, she ran around the outside of the shack, looking for anything that would do.
As she came around the last side of the worn building she saw it - a long, nicely coiled rope just waiting to be used. She scooped it up in her arms and ran to the metal pole holding the bright, orange wind sock aloft. She quickly tied one end of the rope to the pole, mentally crossing her fingers that the pole was anchored firmly enough, then ran back to the edge of the cliff.
Laying down again, she saw that Spike had managed to climb fifteen more feet, but the two creatures were almost upon him, less than five feet below him. "Spike!" Buffy yelled down.
"I thought I told you to go, you stupid bitch!" he screamed up at her.
She ignored his words and tossed the rope over the edge right at him. It hit his back with a soft thud against the leather. "Climb up! Hurry!"
"When I get up there, I'm going to kill you myself," he yelled as he grabbed the rope and began to walk up the wall at a fast clip, his vampiric strength aiding his assent. "Get in the damn shack!"
One of the creatures grabbed the rope and began to climb behind the blond vampire. The second she saw that, she reach out her hand. "Hurry," she begged.
Spike saw her extended arm and growled long and deep as he latched onto her wrist in a safety hold. She pulled with all her strength, bringing him up over the edge of the cliff to the dirt next to her. "Damn you," he hissed at her as he pushed himself to his feet. He grabbed the back of her shirt and yanked her off the ground. "Why didn't you listen to me? Why didn't you get in that bloody shack?"
"Not without you," Buffy whispered in reply, her face a mess of dirt and tears. Her eyes widened as she saw the humanoid beast's head come over the top of the cliff and she hit Spike's chest to get his attention.
Spike looked over his shoulder, then dropped the Slayer to her feet. He grabbed her hand, not caring that it was injured or about her scream of pain and ran towards the building pulling her as fast as he could go. He had to get her inside.
Rounding the corner, he saw the door swinging open and he paused, peering into the interior. Seeing nothing amiss, he pulled Buffy into his arms, smashing her lips with his own before shoving her through the open door.
"Spike! Come in!" Buffy cried out as she tried to grab onto him as she started to fall through the doorway. It was the long, leather duster she managed to capture between her fingers, pulling him with her as she fell.
They landed together simultaneously on the floor, Spike facing her as the red skinned beast came into view. She called out a warning, and the vampire rolled them both to the side just as the scorpion like tail imbedded itself into the wooden floor where they had been an instant before.
"The door," Buffy cried into his ear. "Close the door."
The outer door was right next to Spike's leg, swinging loosely on its hinges. He turned as the creature raised his tail and sent a savage kick at the wood, sending it flying. It hit the outer wall with a thud then swung back towards them. "Lift your legs," he instructed quickly, curling his legs up next to her body as she did the same and the door slammed home just before the creature struck again.
Spike and Buffy were still half wrapped in each others arms when the floor tilted wildly beneath them. Buffy screeched and latched her arms around his neck as they slid down the wood to an open corner. The wood turned into metal as they continued to slide, disappearing beneath the surface of the earth.
Their decent stopped abruptly as they fell into a giant circus net, bouncing with the impact of their bodies. Buffy's eyes were still squeezed shut when they finally stopped, her heart racing in her chest. "Is it over?" she asked the man she was holding onto with a death grip.
Spike was about to reply when he heard the sound of clapping coming from below them. Looking down through the net, he saw a thin, well-dressed man peering up at them. "Well done, well done," he said. "I never would have suspected it would be you two who would win. And hitting the floor simultaneously, enabling both of you two live was pure genius."
The vampire began to growl deep within his chest as the Slayer opened her eyes to stare down in amazement at the man. "Well, come along," he instructed. "A plane is waiting to take you both home."
Buffy's mouth dropped open as he walked away, then turned her attention to Spike. "We won? We get to go home, just like that?"
"Not before I rip his small intestine out and use it as floss," Spike ground out.
"Graphic much?" Buffy said, slowly unclenching her fingers from around his neck. She gasped in pain as she moved her shredded hand.
Spike's game face disappeared at her intake of breath, and he stared worriedly into her face. "Are you ok?"
"I will be as soon as I chop off my hand," she joked, pain lacing her voice.
He took her injured hand in his own, gently placing a kiss on her fingertips. "Better?"
"Much," she replied, breathless for a different reason.
"What say we get out of here, luv?"
"I'd say, what's stopping us?"
They sat next to each other on a windowless plane, watching in abject horror at the video playing above them on the screen.
"Thank you for your participation in the game," the man who'd seen them off was saying. "Because of your survival skills and thirst to win, many went home much richer today. Please feel free to use anything on the plane. You're arrival time in Sao Paolo will be 2100 hours, where a connecting flight will be waiting to take the Slayer on to Los Angeles, then to Sunnydale."
The video turned itself off, and they both sat silently, staring wide eyed at the dark screen. "We were bet on?" Buffy said, breaking the quiet of the cabin.
"Looks to be that way, pet," Spike answered her, resting his chin on his hand, elbow propped on the arm of the seat. "Just like at the races."
"That's just wrong," she complained, frowning. "We were almost killed for money!"
"Humans do that all the time, luv," he admonished. "Bank robbers, assassins, postal workers." She giggled, bringing a smile to his lips. "That's what I wanted to hear."
"What?"
"Your laugh," Spike replied. "It's such a wonderful sound."
Buffy blushed and looked down at her heavily bandaged hands, her fingers barely peeking out of the top of the white gauze. "Spike?"
"Yes, luv?"
"Did you mean it...what you said back on the cliff?" Buffy asked, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.
Spike reached over and tilted her chin up to look in her eyes. "No, I didn't. I only said it to save you. Didn't bloody work, but I tried."
A slow smile spread across her face. "It's the thought that counts anyway, right?"
"Well, actions have a way of showing things, too," he murmured, bringing his lips down upon hers for a kiss. When it ended, a smile hovered on his own lips as he felt the calmness settle over him as it did whenever she was around.
"Do you think that we could..." Buffy's question trailed off into a large yawn.
"Sleepy, pet?" Spike asked, chuckling.
"Very. I'm going to need a vacation when I get home," she commented.
"Here," he said, pushing the arm separating them up and pulling her against his chest. "I'll wake you up in a little while."
"Ok," she said, closing her eyes and snuggling against the soft leather of the duster against his chest, inhaling its distinctive sent. She was asleep in seconds.
Spike silently chuckled again when he heard her breathing slow and her heartbeat settle as she drifted off. He kissed the top of her blond head, then rested his cheek on her hair and let himself follow her into sleep.
"Sir? We've landed," the pilot's soft voice woke Spike from a pleasant dream involving the Slayer and the pool of water they'd stayed by. "The lady's connecting flight is leaving in ten minutes at gate 15."
"Thanks, mate," Spike replied quietly. The pilot nodded and walked away as the vampire looked down at the sleeping woman in his arms.
"Buffy Slayer Summers," Spike told the flight attendant as he boarded the plane. She nodded and directed him to first class, seat three. "Thanks."
Gently, he laid the Slayer down on the wide seat, reaching for the belt to buckle her in. Once done, he traced his finger along her cheek. "Good-bye, Buffy," he whispered, bending to place a soft kiss on her brow. "I love you."
Spike stood and watched the plane take off from the window of the terminal, his forehead resting on the glass. "Woah, dude. You're, like, not reflecting." He turned to see a college student about his height and build, wearing a pair of blue jeans, brown bomber jacket and a faded Guns 'N Roses T-shirt.
Smiling, Spike threw his arm around the boy's shoulder and led him towards one of the bathrooms. "And you're probably wondering why, right, mate? Well, let me tell you..."
A few minutes later, the blond vampire exited the bathroom and lit a cigarette. With a grin, he slid the lighter into the pocket of his blue jeans, adjusted the bomber jacket and faded T-shirt on his shoulders and began to sing to himself as he left the airport. "Welcome to the jungle, we've got fun and games. We've got everything you want and we know your name..."
The stewardess smiled as she passed the sleeping blond in first class, her small body blanketed beneath a long, leather duster.
The End
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