Liz paced restlessly across her motel room, checking things off her mental 'to do' list. She'd stopped her mail at the post office. She'd given her land lord three months rent. Since she'd never taken a vacation since she started her job as a paralegal, she had twelve weeks saved up. So at least her time away from work would be paid. Luckily, she had direct deposit. She'd had the utilities turned off in her apartment. The cat was in a kennel. And she had managed to rent a small dojo for her and Spike to train in. That had taken a nice chunk out of her savings, but it couldn't be helped. She'd worry about getting out of debt later. It wasn't like she had the Magic Box to go to anymore.

A sob escaped her throat at that thought. Images of her friends sitting around the table researching the newest Big Bad slammed into her mind. After all these years, the wounds hadn't even begun to scab over. Liz found herself again trying to think if there could have been any thing she could have done different to change the past. Again, she came up with a million things, but none of it mattered. Xander, Tara and Willow were still dead, and there was nothing she could do to change it.

Thankfully, a hard knock sounded on the door, pulling Liz away from her depressing thoughts. There was one person she loved who needed her. And Liz wouldn't let her down.

Opening the door, she stepped aside so Spike could enter. Dropping his bag on the first bed, he turned to look at her, a scowl crossing his handsome face.

"Cor, Sl. . .Liz. When's the last bloody time you ate a hot meal?" he asked. Liz was wearing a white sports bra and black capri leggings. Her arms were thin, almost sticks, and her ribs could be seen clearly through her skin. Her collar bone was a sharp edge above her breasts. Her dark hair was pulled up into a haphazard knot, with most of its length cascading down her back, exposing the thin line of her throat.

"I ate today." she answered, defensively.

"What, and when?" he challenged, crossing his arms over his chest, the leather of his duster creaking with his movements.

"A bagel. This morning." Spike's scowl became deeper and he reached for her coat.

"Let's go." he said, throwing it at her.

"Where?"

"To get you something to eat." Seeing the anger flash in her eyes, Spike suppressed a smile. *There she is.* he thought to himself. "Pet, you aren't going to do li'l Bit any good if you're not in top form. You need to be strong to get that way. And to get strong, you need to take care of yourself. The first step, is to get some decent food into you. You couldn't even slay a spider right now, luv."

She glared at him for that comment, but shoved her arms into the leather. Huffing angrily, she turned on her heel and stalked out the door. Spike found himself hard pressed not to chuckle as he followed her.

****

Ten minutes later found the unlikely duo sitting in a booth of a small, but comfortable restaurant. The tables were set with red and white checkered table cloths, and fat, drippy candles sat in the middle.

The benches and tables were dark wood, scarred with age. The darkened atmosphere was more suited for quiet, romantic interludes. Not the power struggle that was currently being waged between the former vampire Slayer and her former vampire lover.

"You WILL eat something more than a salad." Spike ground out through clenched teeth. Liz glared back at him furiously, as their poor waiter stood anxiously by, ready to scramble out of the way if they turned violent.

"You said I had to eat. THAT"S what I want to eat."

"That would barely keep a soddin' rabbit alive, pet. You need something to put meat back on you." came his reply. Deciding to order for her, he turned towards the frightened looking waiter and smile assuredly. "Two steaks. Make sure mine still has some moo, in it, mate. Baked potato with the works for her, and give her the salad to. But none of that no fat, low fat dressing nonsense. Bring her a soda, and I'll have a beer. Got that?" Spike asked him, ignoring her indignant sputtering. The waiter nodded his head profusely, backing away from the table. His eyes danced between the angry duo, then he spun around and scurried towards the kitchen.

"Listen, Fang Face. Just because I asked for your help, it doesn't mean you get to go all 'Lord and master' on me." Liz shot at him as soon as the waiter was gone.

"It does if you WANT my help. You need to eat food that will fuel you, not burn away after a brisk walk. We've got some hard training to do, luv. And if you want to save Dawn, you WILL listen to me."

Liz sat back and glared at him as the waiter reluctantly approached the table. Setting their drinks down, he left as quickly as he had come.

"And, another thing." Spike continued. "No more of this 'Liz' business. You're going in there as the Slayer. You need to get yourself back into that frame of mind. Running away from it won't help you do that."

"I hate you." she mumbled, memories of another time surfacing for both of them.

"Yeah. And I'm all you've got."

****

"Who is he?" Lucas asked as he studied the tape. The Slayer and a blonde man were having a

tense conversation, both oblivious to the man that had been following them.

"He's a vampire. Goes by the name of Spike, Mr. Bent." Lucas smiled as he turned his chair to face the man behind him. The same young man that had been dancing with Dawn at the club.

"Spike, huh. Interesting." His smile grew broader as he thought about the possibilities. His mind turned over all the information he had learned about the Slayer. Being a very rich man, it hadn't been hard to find out at all. But with everything he had found out, the last being he had expected her to go to for help was the soulless, de-chipped William the Bloody. He'd had his people watching the other, Angel, since they had taken Dawn. But other than the one meeting with this same blonde vampire, nothing out of the ordinary had occurred at Angel Investigations. Now that he saw them together, Lucas figured that Spike had gone to his sire for help, and had been refused. Tapping his chin thoughtfully, he realized he would have to watch this new player carefully.

He was surprised she hadn't tried to contact her watcher in England, either. Instead, choosing this demon that, according to his reports, she hated.

"What should we do if they show up together at the docks?" the young man asked, a little unnerved by the smile playing across his bosses lips.

"Nothing, Robert. Make sure there are provisions on the boat and in the room for the vampire." Lucas instructed, turning back to the screen.

"But, sir. . ." The steely glint in Bent's eyes cut of Robert's protests. "Yes, sir." he answered instead, and turned to leave the room.

Returning his eyes to the screen, he resumed watching the agitated couple as they finished their meal and left the restaurant.

****

"Well, here it is. Not much, but is should suit our purposes." Buffy said, leading Spike into the building. Flipping a switch on the wall, harsh light spread through the room, revealing thick blue mats covering the concrete floor. A pommel horse stood in the far left corner, and a weight bench occupied the other. Midway between the pommel horse and the front door, a large punching bag hung suspended from the ceiling. Spike quickly moved across the space to inspect the doors against the opposite wall..

The first led to a community bathroom, with a shower area on the right, and stalls for the toilets on the left. Sinks lined the back wall. The second open door, led to a kitchen area, complete with refrigerator, sink, coffee pot and microwave. A small kitchenette table took up the wall opposite the door.

Another door led to a small office, with a janitors' closet in the corner. Nodding his approval, Spike made his way back to the main room.

"We have to cover that window." he said, indicating the picture window that dominated the space by the door.

"I know. I already bought some black paint."

"Good. Let's get our stuff from the hotel. We'll be holing up here."

"Huh?" Spike rolled his eyes and prayed to the God that had forsaken him for patience, before continuing.

"After that's done, we'll get some supplies, and start training tomorrow."

"Hole up here? You mean as in to sleep?" Buffy wrinkled her nose at him, letting him know what she thought of that idea.

"Listen, pet. There's no reason for you to pay for a room, when we will be perfectly fine here."

"But it smells." she protested. "And there are no beds."

"Slayer, get over your delicate sensibilities. Everything we need is right here."

"Fine." she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Are you going to fight me on everything? Need I remind you that you came to ME?" his long legs crossed the distance between them, bringing him within half a foot of her. Mimicking her stance, his angry blue eyes flashed yellow as he stared down at her. Buffy's ire disappeared as quickly as it had sprung up.

"No. I'm sorry. Old habits die hard I guess." she said, giving him a weak smile.

"Yeah." Spike agreed, as he felt his body hardening in response to her nearness. Shaking it off, he started towards the door. "Right, then. Let's get this business started, shall we?" Buffy nodded as she followed him back out into the night, locking the door behind them.

****

Spike waited outside the hotel office while Buffy checked out. Watching his cigarette smoke curl into the air, he thought about what he was doing. He was in trouble, he knew. He was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to walk away from her again, after this was all over. If they even managed to survive at all.

His demon, his heart, and his supposedly non existent soul were all screaming at him to take her, claim her the way he should have before, and make her his once and for all.

*But Buffy was never really yours to begin with, mate* he thought bitterly. And, boy, had he screwed up. In a desperate attempt to make her admit her feelings for him, he'd tried for another bit of the rough and tumble, with heavy emphasis on the rough. In the state of mind he was in, he hadn't realized that she was saying 'NO', and meaning it. She'd managed to overpower him, and then proceeded to rip him a new one right proper.

Spike had felt shame for the third time in his unlife. The first time being when he'd gotten busted with that damn 'bot. The second when he'd gotten piss drunk with Anya, then shagged her, moaning Buffy's name all the while. Luckily, Anya hadn't gone all vengeancey on him, because she was moaning Xander's name just as loudly. Unluckily, however, the pair was unaware of the camera that had been placed in the Magic Box by the Tri-dorks. They had no idea they were putting on a live porn show for their exes, who had found the nerds new hide out.

And the third time, when Buffy had sent him away, disgust and loathing shining in her eyes. Spike had wanted to stake himself, or watch the sunrise for the first time in over a century. He'd done a lot of things in his time before the chip, but rape was one particular evil he'd never had the stomach to commit.

He'd left for Africa the next day, determined to get the chip out and prove to Buffy that he'd changed. It was on the trip back that Spike had realized that no matter what he did, she'd never see him as anything other than an 'evil, disgusting, thing.' That's when he decided to leave Sunnydale. Unfortunately, he couldn't outrun her memory, and he had found himself in L. A., standing at his sire's door, hoping that Angel could tell him how to get over the girl. But Angel hadn't wanted to talk. Just used him like he always had, disgust for his childe radiating out of him even as he drove himself into Spike. Punishing the blonde for whatever imagined wrong Angel felt he'd done. Spike never bothered to ask

"Ready?" Buffy asked, coming up behind him.

"Yeah." he answered, crushing his cigarette under his boot, shaking off the memories of the past. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his grey jeans, as he fell into step beside the Slayer. His red t-shirt hugged his chest and stomach, reminding Buffy of the tightly muscled body beneath. She would have loved to find out why he changed the way he dressed. His long, blonde hair was pulled back at the nape of his neck by a simple black band. Her fingers itched to run through it and see if it was still as soft as she remembered.

Walking in silence, they stopped at a couple of stores along the way back to the dojo, to pick up sleeping bags, food and drink for Buffy, and blood for Spike.

Buffy eyed him under her lashes as they waited at the butcher's for his order. Spike caught her when he reached to take the bag from the suspicious man behind the counter.

"What?" he queried as they walked back into the night.

"I didn't figure you'd bag it anymore." she replied. There was no accusation in her voice, no disgust on her face. Just a look of curiosity. "You know, being without the chip, now."

"Won't have time to hunt." was all he said. No need for more, when this situation was only temporary. *Right, temporary. And I'm the Queen mum.* Spike told his inner voice to shut up.

"I guess not." They quickly made there way back to their new home, both feeling apprehensive at having to be in such close contact with the other over the next couple of weeks.

Letting them in, Buffy moved through the training room to the office. Opening the janitors' closet, she pulled out the cans black paint and brushes. Spike put their purchases away, then went to help her paint the window in the last few hours before sunrise.

When he walked over to her, Buffy was teetering precariously on an old metal stool, trying to reach one of the corners. A squeal escaped her when she realized she was falling. Spike was behind her in an instant, snatching her out of the air as she was twisting to land on her knees, instead of her butt. Her momentum pushed him backwards, and Buffy found herself sprawled along the hard length of his body. Her hands were splayed across his cotton covered chest, her face pressed against his shoulder.

Breathing deep, she inhaled his scent, feeling some of the fear that had been her constant companion recently, slip away. Buffy felt her body start to respond to his, and hesitantly raised her head. She caught a flash of desire in the blue depths of his eyes, before he quickly covered it up.

"You okay, Pet?" he asked her, his cool breath tickling her cheeks. Buffy's eyes were wide as she stared at him, every nerve on fire as familiar feelings assaulted her. She knew he wasn't unaffected, could feel the evidence pressed intimately against her thigh. She nodded slowly, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips.

Spike's eyes darkened at her innocent action. *Bugger* he thought as he brought a hand up to cup the back of her neck. She lowered her head at the same time he raised his, their eyes fluttering closed the instant before their mouths touched. They both moaned at the contact, and deepened the kiss without prompting from the other. Buffy's fingers fisted in the front of his shirt as Spike's tongue dance sensually over hers.

*So sweet* he thought, his hand tangling in her hair to prevent her from pulling away. When all she did was try to wiggle closer, Spike flipped them, settling himself on top of her. Her satisfied moan filled him as he continued to plunder her mouth. His cool fingers skimmed across the bare skin of her side, causing her to shiver beneath him.

Buffy was lost in the scent, feel and taste of him. She'd missed him so much. So wrapped up in the sensations she was feeling, that when he pulled away, she cried out from the loss.

"Spike?" she questioned, sitting up. He stood, with his back to her, his hand clenched into fists at his sides. His body was taut with tension, as he tried to regain control of his hormones. "Spike?"

"Don't, Buffy."

"Did I do something wrong?" she asked quietly. He let out a bitter laugh, causing her to flinch.

"No, pet. But this. . . can't happen again. You don't feel anything for me, and I can't, won't, go through that again."

*I hurt him so badly* Buffy thought, staring at his rigid back. Her heart begged her to tell him he was wrong, that she had nearly let herself die without him. That if it hadn't been for Dawn, she probably would have died from the pain of losing everything that had ever meant anything to her, including him. But her sensible self took over, telling her that he wasn't ready to hear it. Wouldn't be ready to believe.

"Spike. . ." she started, only to be cut off once more.

"You don't have to say anything. Let's just get this window taken care of, shall we. Then we can get some rest." Never turning to look at her, Spike picked up the paint brush and can, then climbed up on the stool himself. His long arms had no problems reaching the corners.

Buffy had no choice but to pick up the other paint brush and can. Starting on the other side of the window, they worked in silence. The oppressiveness of it nearly choking her.

Next Part