Chapter Five
Author's Notes: This chapter is for two very lovely ladies Mary Perk who is one of the nicest people in the fandom, and Anon 462 who always has a kind word.



He stood on the deck of the wagon, the porcelain tiles beneath his feet draining water out onto the ground below. The curtain hid his nudity from view as he used the hand pump to pull water from the barrel next to him up and through the shower nozzle above him.

Spike was in a quandary as he washed his hair. What he had been doing was wrong. In its own way, it was more wrong than anything he had ever done.

As he rinsed the soap out of his hair and began washing his upper body, he thought back to passion of the night before. The Slayer had given the vampire a night of the most innocent yet powerful sex he had ever experienced. To her, it had all been brand new, and somehow she had been able to make Spike feel the same way.

The sexcapades had gone on for hours as they had used each others bodies—and yes, he had to think of it that way, otherwise there had been some very real, very deep emotions involved that he wasn’t ready to admit to yet—to release the tensions that had built up over the last month. It had been all he could do to drag himself from her insatiable arms and into the shower to soothe his sore muscles.

I love my dark princess, He vowed silently. “I love my dark wicked plum.” Yet even he could hear the lie in his words.

He’d never before wished for the insanity that seemed to run rampant through the other members of his vampire family, but he was beginning to think it would make unlife easier. If he were as insane as Dru or as stupid as Angelus, he would be able to blame the pixies or his poor benighted soul for everything, but no. He, Spike, had to deal with the truth, not trumped up excuses. Not only was he living in sexual bliss with the Slayer, but he was also protecting a ragtag band of humans. To top it all off, he no longer seemed to need blood. He didn’t know whether to snarl or cry.

The growl that escaped his lips was less feral than whiny, but it helped. He was an Aurelian Master Vampire. Humans came in three types; wild, on tap, and personal property. Yet here he was, shepherding just over a hundred humans, and was he feeding? No. Was he turning any of them? No. Bloody William the Wanker was too worried that the poor pulsers might not get enough food, and of course he had to make sure they knew that they were going to be protected and looked out for. It was enough to make an honest vamp walk out into the sunshine.

But of course he didn’t even have that option anymore, because Buffy the Vampire Layer had shagged his need to stay out of direct sunlight straight out the buggerin’ window. Bloody Slayer quim! It should be outlawed.

For some reason, his eyes were drawn to the window where he could see the slayer as she sat on the bed, combing her hair and acting all innocent. He wanted to blame her for everything, but the truth was that she was just as innocent in all this as he. “Bloody evil here, not innocent,” he muttered darkly.

The more he thought about it, he had to admit that everything had changed after Acaltha, making it the big rock’s fault. He rolled his eyes at that. Even he had to admit that it was stupid to blame a rock, so he felt free to blame the brainless twits that had started this whole mess, Angelus and Spike’s own sire, Dru. They had thought the whole stupid plan up.

And that was another thing; when had he started to harbor such traitorous thoughts about his beloved Dru? And didn’t that sound hollow? he thought bitterly. When had he stopped loving Dru?

The exact moment he stepped through Acaltha.

Five minutes before and he would have cut off his own dick to keep it out of the slayer. Five minutes after and the only reason he hadn’t was because it would have hurt her poor widdle slayer feelings.

And that…that was the rub.

That one woman…Nia, I think her name is? She’s a mage. I wonder if she can conjure me up a little voice so I can be certifiable instead of just mildly crazy?


Buffy sat on the bed in the wagon and combed her hair. Having already showered, she watched Spike with an almost childlike fascination as his muscles rippled as he moved. ”Angel’s never did that. She giggled out loud as he argued with himself.

Angel had been her standard of perfection, and yet the morning after she’d slept with him, he hadn’t just thrown her to the wolves; he had become the wolf. He had torn apart her heart and her youthful feminine pride and left it lying in the dirt. That was what she had gotten from her supposed soul mate.

Her best friend with benefits however…

Spike not only had breakfast in bed, he had generously allowed her to shower first. More proof that soulmates were way overrated. Hell, she was pretty sure that Spike would have bathed her if she had asked.

The best friend sex did kind of squick her. It might mean she had to have sex with Xander if and when she ever got home. ”But Xander was never that hot!” a little voice in her mind stated.

She sighed dreamily and dragged her eyes away from the window and back to her drawing of a crossbow and its assorted parts, trying to put her lover out of her mind. The drawing was good, she decided, even if it was drawn with charcoal from the fire onto a board.

This world was truly strange. According to Giles, the bow and arrow had been invented so far back in the past on earth that no one truly remembered who had invented it, and even before that there had been slings and spear throwers. This world had none of those things, and yet, according to Spike, the very wagon they were riding in had as good a suspension system as a car on earth.

She would take it to Aeryn later today to see if the skillful smith could make them. She had seen Spike take the woodcrafter, Slinky, aside yesterday with several yew staffs that were the beginnings of long bows. If everything worked out, they should have a wide range of weapons in a matter of days.

She had also been talking to Nia, their mage, and that crazy blonde in the second wagon that the others kept insisting was an oracle. Buffy thought her name might be Holly. The two had excellent ideas about how to make paper and some sort of pencils. As strange as her friends back in Sunnydale might have found it, the very idea of a group of women and children this large that couldn’t read or write offended Buffy Summers to the very core. She hadn’t been the best student herself, but had been taught that it was everyone’s right to read and write. What had Nancy Reagan said? “Just say no to illiteracy.” Okay, that might have been no to drugs, but it was kind of the same thing.

So if—no, when—she convinced Spike to help her, they would be ready, for the writing portion anyway. They had no books of any kind. As far as she knew there were none here. Buffy thought for a moment. It would be so cool if one of my students turned out to be like Romeo Shakespeare or Huckleberry Twain.

Spike walked back into the room naked, using his towel to dry his hair. Buffy tried not to stare and drool. After all, she knew all about his naked parts, but her eyes wouldn’t leave said parts.

“Luv? Can you do me a favor today?” Spike asked her, his towel still covering his eyes. “Could you ask the smith about whetstones?”

“Whetstones?” Buffy replied, harshly yanked from her lustful thoughts.

“Yeah, you know…sharpening stones?” he answered as he tossed the towel aside and began rummaging in the closet next to the bed. He pulled out a pair of leather pants and started putting them on as he continued, “That axe I used has a notch in the blade. If she has a stone, I can get it out.”

“Okay, I’ll ask.” Buffy promised him as she watched him finish dressing, adding a white button up shirt and high top leather boots. With barely a casual ‘thanks,’ he was out the door.

”He could have at least kissed me goodbye,” Buffy pouted. And why could he get any kind of clothes he needed, she wondered.
-----------------------------------

Spike had to literally stop himself from climbing back up into the wagon and snogging the girl senseless. Where the bloody hell had that idea came from? He forced himself to continue on his way, grumbling all the while about the evil nature of slayers, and one slayer in particular.

He walked towards the horses, wondering if he was developing a Jekyll and Hyde personality. He fervently hoped so.

The boys were already mounted and ready when he got there, so eager that they were bouncing in their saddles. “You boys know we’ll be entering a village today, right?” he asked, hating the fact that he cared if they were disappointed. “You can’t carry weapons, or they might attack you.”

“We figured a way around that, Sire,” Seth, one of the younger boys piped up with a grin. “You usually fight alone, so we’re just carrying the weapons for you.”

Spike growled and rolled his eyes, determined not to show that he was pleased with the boy’s quick thinking. He refused to like any of them. They were just a source of protein. Seth in no way reminded him of his—of William’s cousin James.

“Hope it works out for you then, mate.” Spike informed the boy grinning evilly. “Otherwise your mum has one less face to feed.”

Instead of being intimidated, however, Seth just grinned and replied. “It’s acceptable behavior, Sire.”

“It’s done all the time, Sire.” Matthew, one of the older boys, informed him seriously. “Though it usually means that you are considering training us as guards.”

“Well, if that just isn’t bloody perfect,” Spike groused, throwing his arms heavenward. “I let you blokes carry weapons, so now I have to train you to fight?”

The teens showed no contrition as the laughed openly at the irate vampire.


As Spike led the boys back towards the front of the wagon train, he saw Buffy leaving the weapons wagon with what appeared to be a five foot long claymore. He rolled his eyes, wondering what the buggrin’ hell she intended to do with a sword bigger than she was. Oh, she had the strength for it, but it was unwieldy to a person her size.

“Luv?” he asked as he drew even with her. “Don’t you think the Gladius is more your size?”

“But?” Buffy gave Spike a strange look.

“The Roman Gladius is perhaps the second best sword ever invented for hand to hand combat.” Spike informed her in his most pompous tone of voice. “It is perhaps second only to the Japanese Katana because of its weight, balance, and the ease of which you can control deflection.”

With that Spike smirked at her and turned his horse to leave.

Evil Bastard! Buffy glared at his retreating back. And still no smoochies!

This time Spike gave in to his impulse and spun his horse around. Before Buffy could react, he lifted her onto his saddle and kissed her hard. He seemed intent on devouring her mouth, but just as she started enjoying it, he dropped her, whirled his mount once more and rode away.

Scowling after him as he rode away, Buffy pulled back her light jacket to reveal a smaller, katana-like sword.

“Do I look like an idiot?” Buffy asked an extremely wary Charena. “That damned sword is too big and too old. I was taking it to Aeryn to see if she could use it to make crossbow parts. Idiot vampire!”



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