Spike slept like the dead that night; unplagued by mind-twisting nightmares. It was perhaps mid-morning when he finally woke, and for just a few seconds, he wasn't sure what had roused him from such deep slumber. He had turned unconsciously in sleep, curling in towards the girl who slept at his side, his arm once again looped about her shoulders, their legs tangled together on top of the blankets. He froze, his body going rigid until he forced himself to relax, to allow itself to experience the simple nearness of another body. For him, there was something distinctly intimate about sleeping next to someone; more than sex, more than blood… the trust that permitted a person to be their most vulnerable so close to another.
He found his cheek was pressed against the top of Shadoe's head, her dark hair tickling his skin as he took a deep breath to center himself. With the hospital stench of the Initiative labs, the sweat and dirt and blood all washed away, her natural scent filled up his head and made his mouth water. She smelled like winter; cold and ice and clean white snow, juniper and pine, the light traces of cranberry lingering in her hair reminding him of long ago Christmases.
Suddenly, the slamming of a car door had him fully awake, aware that it was the same sound that had initially woken him up. Voices in the driveway just outside the window alerted him to the presence of at least three people, one of which sounded like a cop. Rolling quickly from the bed, he reached out a hand and twitched the blinds open, a flash of sunlight stinging his fingertips before he dropped them shut. There were red and blue lights in the drive.
"Shit!" he muttered, crossing back to the bed. "Get up!" he hissed, shaking the girl's shoulder roughly. "Come on luv, gotta go. We've outstayed our welcome."
Shadoe jumped immediately to her feet, knuckling her eyes and blinking rapidly. Whipping the green quilt from the bed, Spike flung it about his shoulders, hooding it over his head and darting quietly towards the back door. He could hear the cop approaching the front, and Spike prayed that the git didn't have a canine with him ready to charge into the house. He didn't fancy slowing down to tear out the throat of some bite-happy Shepherd. Easing the door open, he took a moment to scan the backyard and then bolted, crossing the lawn and aiming for the next street where there would be a manhole waiting for him.
Two minutes more found him safe in the darkness of the sewers, looking up at the white glow of the open manhole. Shadoe looked back down at him, fear written all over her face, but they didn't have time for her to hesitate. If the cop cleared the house and found the broken window pane at the back, all he would have to do was look up and he would catch her, still in full sight of the house.
"Gotta jump pet," Spike said desperately. "Now!"
To his relief, she took one last look back at the house and swung easily down into the tunnel, dangling from the edge for a minute until Spike stepped forward, reaching up to take her by the hips and drop her down the last few feet. Her borrowed canvas shoes splashed noisily into the thin stream of dirty water that trickled along the bricks and she frowned, her nose crinkling at the smell that hung in the hot, heavy air.
"Don't think about it," Spike advised, looking left and right down both ends of the tunnel. "Not the best of highways, but it'll get us where we're goin.' Plus it's got the benefit of bein' all not-sunny-like."
"Where are we going?"
Spike turned to look at Shadoe in surprise, a smile touching his lips.
"What?" she asked quietly, her cheeks going pink.
"Nothing luv," Spike grinned. It was just that it was the first time she'd talked to him, really offered something, not just responded. And that was a good sign right? "Think we'll head across town; there's another abandoned place like this one east of us. You can bunk down there for the night while I make a few calls. Couple of days, I should have us a place a bit more permanent-like." He paused, looking at her again though she was busy staring off down the tunnel in the direction he had indicated. "Unless you want to leave?" he asked uncertainly.
Turning to him, her eyebrows came down in a look like calculation, confusion and concern warring in her. What was she thinking?
"Should we go?" she asked softly, her eyes begging him for honesty. "They…"
"I'll take care of the soldiers luv, whether I gotta set the whole of the Hellmouth on 'em or do it all myself." Reaching out, he placed reassuring hands on her shoulders. "You don't have to worry about them, all right? Won't let them hurt you again. I promise."
He'd done it again. That was twice now. What was wrong with him, what was he thinking?! Dropping his hands, he turned off down the tunnel, letting his demon eyes show him the way in the darkness. Sure he was planning to do it anyway. Wasn't quite sure how,but if he had to he could rally the demons in the area, bring them under the control of a Master Vampire and set them on the warpath. Probably be more than happy to do it too, what with the whole kidnapping and experimentation M.O. they had going.
The issue of travel had once again gone undecided, but Spike didn't particularly care all that much. He was going to have his fun with the little tin soldiers, whether they stayed in Sunnyhell or tailed it. What he needed to do was sit down and come up with a plan, a good plan that plotted out just what the future would be. His mind was a bit hazy with the bloodlust that was becoming more and more of a problem as time went on, and all he could focus on was that he was carting a very fragile, very important package around damp, disease-ridden sewers. If he couldn't find a way to break the chemically induced dependence this girl had over him, he was of a mind to lock her away in a padded room that only he had the key to.
Suddenly, fingers came forward to tangle with his, gripping his hand tightly in the dark. He might've pulled away, but he knew that she couldn't see down here. She'd been following him blindly, by sound and instinct alone until it had been too much for her. She might be talking, might be getting a bit bolder, but she wasn't half of what she could be one day. Slayers were some of the most deadly gorgeous creatures that walked this earth, and if anyone knew the seductive beauty of their power it was Spike. The thought that she could get there, that he could help to build her back up into what she was meant to be, kept him from pulling away, in point of fact had his thumb sweeping over the back of her hand. The truth that she wasn't the Slayer, or at least wasn't the only one, didn't matter.
Sloshing through the sewers, Spike kept a firm yet gentle hold on her, pausing at frequent intervals to get his bearings and determine just where they were at. Navigating the dark tunnels was harder than one would think, especially when he wasn't at his best, but he managed to get them to the other side of the city without running into any other creepy crawlies. Breaking and entering was a bit trickier in the daylight, and not only because he was flammable. Luckily for him, this second house was on the edge of town in a much more rural area, bordered by a wooded bluff that would hopefully serve as adequate cover. There was a water treatment facility and a power plant up there too, so finding an exit to suit their needs wasn't quite the deadly game of whack-a-mole that it could've been.
Drawing his stolen quilt tightly about his head and shoulders, Spike took a step behind Shadoe and ducked down low, scooping her up so that she was sitting on his shoulder when he rose again. She had yelped a bit at the sudden strange shift in position, grasping tightly at his hair to keep her balance.
"Easy on!" Spike barked, using one hand to steady her and the other to untangle her fingers from his curls. Stepping to the side, he gestured at the manhole cover above their heads. "Let's have a look yeah?"
She pulled a face at him from her perch, unsure.
"Don't look at me like that," he admonished. "What are you afraid of? It's not like you'll burst into flame." He shrugged, shifting her a bit higher. "Just pop up, have a bit of a look-see, get the all clear."
"Ok."
"Tha's a girl!"
She was hesitant at first, reluctant to relinquish her grip on his hair and jacket, but once she found the center of her balance, she reached up with steady hands, pushing half-heartedly at the lid of the manhole. The thick, heavy disk of metal didn't budge. Frowning, she tried again, pushing back the sleeves of her too-big scrubs and shoving, but still the cap didn't move.
"Come on Shadoe," Spike urged, squeezing an ankle where he held her steady. He could have easily opened it himself, even in his weakened state, but it wasn't about that. "You're stronger than that. Give it all you got."
Baring gritted teeth, Shadoe let out a snarly little grumble that Spike found strangely attractive, shoving up against the metal cover with everything she had. Unfortunately, she used his hip for leverage, pushing off with her borrowed tennis shoe and nearly giving him a heart attack, which was certainly saying something given his undead condition. But she was a little bit close to prized goods for his liking. The grating sound of metal on pavement was their reward, and her body was sufficiently blocking the sunlight to keep him from self-immolating. Fingers on the edge, she pulled herself up a bit off his shoulder as he carefully redirected her feet, peeking out tentatively from the tunnel.
"What do you see luv?" Spike asked. "Coast clear?"
Scanning the area, she looked back down into the sewer and nodded. "Looks clear," she said.
"All right then," Spike replied, grabbing onto her knees. "Up you go."
Pushing up, he held on until she pulled herself out of the tunnel, kneeling at the side of the hole and waiting for him to follow. With a deep breath, he resettled his blanket and leapt upwards, pulling himself through as quickly as he could. Topside once more, he tucked lightly singed fingertips beneath his arms, ducking low and running for the cover of the tree line. The scrub was thick enough that the shade was heavy and cool, giving him the illusion of protection, the illusion of calm for a moment.
"Ok," he muttered. "Ok, should be the third one… there!" He pointed to a small, low-slung gray house, one in a rough line of similar houses dotting the high road that led up the bluff. They were fairly well distanced from each other, and he only hoped they were far enough apart that the neighbors didn't have a great view through the trees. No, his eyes were focused on a bigger problem. The door itself. Looked like solid wood, that one. He'd have to pick the lock, and he didn't have anything on hand to do it with. But maybe… yes!
"Come on," he said quietly, and broke out into a run, tearing down the hill and skidding to a stop on the small, flat porch at the back of the house. She matched him step for step, her breathing heavy but silent as she landed behind him, darting anxious looks left and right.
There was a metal planter perched on the edge of the porch, and it was easy enough to knock out the pot, tipping soil onto the patio and snapping off two thin pieces of wire. Crude yes, but a bend here and a twist there and they might just do the job. With deft fingers, Spike put a few crimps into the wires and knelt down before the lock, easing his make-shift picks around the tumblers and listening for the tell-tale click.
Shadoe rocked anxiously on the balls of her feet, biting down hard on her tongue to keep from babbling, from telling him to hurry. Every time she spoke to him he got the strangest look on his face, and it made her wonder if she should just stay quiet. She could hear him muttering under his breath and cursing viciously, trying to threaten the lock into compliance. Every second that went by pounded in her fingertips, ratcheting up her flight response until she was panting and ready to bolt. Panicked and shaking, she didn't see the soldiers slipping silently down from the top of the bluff.
They moved like ghosts through the trees, keeping low with guns drawn. They had their orders; return Experimental Pair 17 to the laboratory without fail or face military reprimand. Their commander wanted them both, but the Hostile was Priority One. It was his back they sighted on. It was the Feeder that saved him.
She wouldn't have seen them but for the sun. The briefest glare of white light off of gunmetal, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. Some instinct, something told her to move, to take just two steps to the side and turn, and it felt like a dream. Like floating over the boards of the porch and hearing the gunshot through a tunnel, cracking off the wall of the bluff and echoing away. She felt the sharp pain above her hip, the hot sear of something burying itself deep in her abdomen and the gush of blood, but she didn't really feel it. She heard Spike shout, snarl out a violent, fearful 'no!' but she didn't really hear him. She knew she was falling, and that his arms were coming around to catch her, but she didn't really know it. And then everything was black.