Immortal, Chapter 5

Spike's mouth was against her neck. No fangs, only soft lips kissing her over and over again. She had complete trust in him, no Slayer senses warning her to get the vampire away as she placed her hand in his hair and gently pulled him in deeper.

"Buffy," He growled out between kisses.

She moaned, her body demanding she reply. His kisses felt wonderful, his body against her as well, but his rhythmic, deep pounding into her was mind-blowing. She tightened her thighs against him, getting closer and closer to the edge. It built with every second, with every thrust, kiss, and sweet nothing Spike mumbled against her neck.

"Spike, Spike." Her voice grew more desperate. "I'm gonna...I'm…"

Her eyes opened. A small gasp escaping her lips. The ceiling in her bedroom was not what she wanted above her. She closed her eyes letting out a frustrated and unsatisfied sigh. Why couldn't she stay asleep for one more minute? Not that it mattered, she would have woken up to feeling flustered, lonely, and horny either way.

Sometimes, like this particular occurrence, when a dream would borrow heavily from actual past events it was even worse. Those were the bad mornings, when the feeling of loss was heavier than the lust. She couldn't fight the smile creeping onto her face. They weren't there yet, it would take time, but there was no more need to feel loss for Spike. He was found.

She reached for her phone...a small laugh escaping her lips when she realized what she was doing. The amount of times the urge struck over the last few days was ridiculous, eye opening really. Like a smoker trying to kick the habit, it would be a physical urge, a twitch in her hand, and it always took her brain a second to catch up. Getting frustrated when it realized it couldn't have what it wanted.

Maybe people really were overly reliant on technology in her time. Talking heads on television and bloggers railing against the very thing they were using to spread their message were always saying that. That as the world got more connected with social media and technology they were actually becoming more isolated. Either way, it sucked not having a smartphone with significantly faster internet speed than dial-up 1999. It could kill the time and she needed something like that lately. Patience wasn't her virtue, but it would have to be.

One of the drawbacks of this whole thing, although the benefits heavily outweighed any negatives. She wasn't a huge television person, but the fact everything would be a rerun for the foreseeable future was also a drag.

She decided to get up from bed, heading towards the bathroom.

She was alone in the house. Decided to stay at home instead of the dorms. She wanted to be home when her mother returned. Of all the places to get thrown back in time, her PTB friend decided to choose one where her mother was out of town. It was frustrating, but gave her something to look forward to. Something to keep her thoughts somewhat busy and minimize her obsessing over Spike. The only thing she looked forward to right now besides all things involving him. Mom would be back tomorrow, and that didn't feel soon enough.

The first time she had spent time in L.A right now. Ran after Angel. She had no urge to do that. It could have killed the time but nothing eventful really happened. Angel killing a demon with a clock was pretty cool. She had never seen that before. But thinking back, their brief talk in his office was sort of lame. Hi, leave me alone, bye, oh a demon. The demon's dead. See ya. Lame all around and she had no urge to relive that. Maybe she could call Angel and make it clear to stay away. She didn't need him poking his head around anytime soon and complicating her plan, one which didn't include him.

As soon as Angel drifted away from her thoughts, Spike was thrown to the forefront. Like her mind was telling her she was cheating or something. Her heart told her brain to shut its mouth, it knew who ran through it constantly. It wasn't Angel. Not in a long, long time. Not since Spike.

She hadn't seen him in three days. Not since the recruitment at Giles' apartment. She patrolled by Spike's crypt in Restfield the previous night, reaching out to see if she could sense him inside, but it was clear it wasn't his home yet.

What if he picked a different crypt? What if he got a windowless, basement apartment somewhere instead with all the money she would be forking over?

Speaking of money, that gave her the perfect excuse to initiate with Spike whenever she found him. She had his first official payment. Carried it with her at all times since it was acquired, in case their paths crossed. Over six hundred bucks. The four she owed him, and the amount she was short before.

Money wouldn't be an issue anymore.

Two nights prior, she went to the bite house. The one Spike led her to, exposing what Riley was doing with his free time. It burned like before. She killed the first few vampires, and the ones that followed immediately after with the confidence to fight back. She let the more cowardly vampires and humans of the establishment flee.

Her memory served her well. She thought she vaguely recalled seeing one of the tables downstairs having this look of 'blatantly illegal'. Traphouse chic. Questionable substances and objects and cold, hard cash. She was right.

She didn't know if humans were actually paying to be bit. She didn't think Riley was back when she caught him in the first iteration. Or maybe they were also running a vampire drug ring on top of a whorehouse. Either way, she was glad the pants she wore had decent pockets and she left the burning building with over six grand in tow.

It was enough for three full months of Spike payments and some spending cash. More would come later.

Looking back, it was amazing how often she didn't take advantage of the money left behind by now dead demons. It was far more common to fight in graveyards or alleyways, but she had fought in a lair, hideout, or drop house of some sort dozens of times. All the Slayers pilfered the spoils in the future, it wasn't talked about much but encouraged. Giles had implemented a stipend, a relatively small, biweekly payment for all Slayers and New Council members. His attempt to right a previous wrong. However, to be fair to all members, and to keep the previous Council's investments they were now in charge of from going dry, he couldn't give much.

It was only enough to finance a meager living, but no Slayers were forced to take minimum wage work out of desperation to keep a roof over their head.

Most supplemented, when the opportunity arose. It was one of those questionable, grey areas that Slayers now lived in. One time they killed an old vampire, like older than Angel level of old. He murdered the wealthy owners of a mansion, lived in it with a half dozen vampires he had sired. Buffy and two other Slayers made quick work of them. One room of the estate had lots of valuables and cash. It was close to a hundred thousand, a Christmas of sorts for the Slayers. She gave out the money freely, not keeping much for herself, paying off credit cards of the Slayers who had a fashion sense or bad spending habits and the bills of Slayers that were struggling to get by with their small allowance.

She wasn't going to work at Doublemeat Palace again. And her mom wasn't going to die, so she wasn't going to have to take over the mortgage regardless. That was a priority of the highest magnitude. Another problem that needed solved and needed a plan.

Her mind wandered freely while she went through her morning routine until she was dressed and prepped for the day. Plopping down on the living room couch, she realized it was only a few minutes past 9 A.M. when she looked at the clock. A long time before she could go patrol. Like always, Spike on the brain.

Maybe she would see if Willow wanted to go shopping. She had a bit of money to spend.

IMMORTAL

This couch was a pain in the ass. It started easy and fine enough. Free couch. Easily strapped to the top of his DeSoto, easy enough to carry across the cemetery over one shoulder to his new home. It was a bitch to fit through the door, but he did it. Finally, it was placed where he wanted it. He flopped down. It was fairly clean for where he found it, but not exactly comfortable. His eyes scanned the mausoleum and suddenly knew where a television would go nicely.

Apparently, it was at least mildly comfortable. His eyes blinked open, sleep leaving his body. Spike wasn't sure how he fell asleep, but it couldn't have been for long. It wasn't too late from what he could sense, around eleven or so.

A scent hit his nostrils. A bit of sweat, sweeter than most but unmistakable. A bit of perfume, vaguely familiar. He thought about it for a second, a sigh escaping his lips when he placed who it belonged to. He flipped himself upright on the couch and listened. No sound of footsteps, no movement. Was the crazy bint just standing outside his crypt?

She probably sensed him too. She didn't have the nose or the hearing to match his, but she had that built in Slayer alarm system.

Tension grew when he heard her footsteps. Growing closer, coming up the steps to the crypt, and finally, reaching the entrance. The door swung open.

He stood up, making a path so he could meet the Slayer in the middle of his crypt. He made sure to stare at her like a predator, a friendly reminder of unfriendly intentions as he approached. She came to a stop at about the same time as him, less than ten feet separating them.

"Nice digs." She said.

"Thanks." his only reply, sarcastic and less than genuine. "I wondered how long it'd be 'for you tracked me down, Slayer."

She shrugged. "Didn't exactly make yourself hard to find."

He raised an eyebrow at that. "One of a dozen cemeteries in this bloody town…"

She shrugged again, almost in admittance. "Yeah, I was looking for you."

His eyes narrowed. A surge of anger that settled in his chest. What, she didn't think he would honor their agreement? Or perhaps she simply wanted to keep her thumb on him? Remind him that he was on a leash. Probably thought her hand was on the other end. She was wrong. In time, he would show the Slayer reality. She didn't have to acknowledge it now, but the truth would be blatantly obvious as he choked the life out of her.

"An' why would that be, huh?" He took a step forward, eyes boring into her.

She scoffed. Reaching into her pocket, she grabbed something and quickly flicked her hand out in his direction. He recognized what the object was in midair, reaching to catch it. A few loose bills fell free from the rest in flight, and he reached down to pick them up. "Bloody hell Slayer," He started in frustration, but didn't finish as his eyes took in the money. It was more than he expected. "Lot here. I get a raise or something?"

"No," She replied. "It's what we agreed, and what I owe you from last time."

Right. So maybe the Slayer had a bit of honor. Made good on her word. She should and all, whitehat and the poster child for everything good, pure, and nauseating. She was anything but, got her hands dirty, but still the mascot for the bloody Powers. He refused to allow himself to feel appreciation. It was an agreement and she was doing the bare minimum, right? Instead, he leaned into the anger from before.

He wasn't fooled. She was here to prove a point. She could find him, whenever she wanted. The money was a nice cover though. Oh, I just came to drop off some dosh. Bloody likely.

"Any big bads or apocalypses?" He said through a clenched jaw.

She didn't pick up on what he was getting out. Shaking her head, she shrugged. "No, not really. Pretty quiet."

"Good then, bugger off." He whipped around intent of heading back to his newest piece of furniture.

"Well," he heard from behind him.

He spun back around.

"I thought maybe you'd want to do a lap of Restfield with me?" She wasn't begging, but her voice seemed to be designed to come off persuasive.

"Hard pass pet," Spike said. "Like we talked about, I'm not the bloody poof. Let me know when you find the soldier boys and I'll come running, but the nightly rounds fall under your job description. Not mine."

She let out a sigh, defeat in her body language. She didn't know why she tried. Rejection was obvious and expected. But, she had one card up her sleeve. Still unlikely, but a higher chance of working than asking outright. The best chance actually.

"I just figured I would ask. Thought you could always use a spot of violence?" She noticed his eyebrow perch up at her phrasing. It was his word choice, not hers. "Thought you might be going stir crazy? Maybe want to beat something up."

There it was. The brow furrow, his lips tightening. She couldn't see it, but she knew he was probably running his tongue over his teeth. He was analyzing, debating, weighing the pros and cons. There really weren't many, it was pretty simple. The violence and chance to hit something that a part of him needed.

"Fine." He said.

IMMORTAL

She got better. Much better. He noticed during their brief fight in the sunlight, when the bitch stole the Gem and sent him running in a plume of smoke. Another source of shame, another thing he would pay her back for tenfold. Still, she wasn't this good. That boy she had given herself too, that rejected her? Well, he must have been in her head because she clearly wasn't on her game during their last brawl.

She was incredible. Quite a bit better than his brief trip to Sunnydale last year. Significantly better than the first time Drusilla and him came to town. A whole different class now, not comparable in the slightest.

Her techniques were fine-tuned, all of them. She could shift between different fighting styles and forms effortlessly and lethally. Her improvisational skills were as sharp as ever, and while her strength, speed, and stamina hadn't improved...a Slayer got all she would ever get at the beginning, and it was a lot anyways...she definitely knew how to better use them to her advantage.

It got to a point he was deferring to her, letting her engage with three vampires in a row, just so he could watch her more. Something had clicked, she always had plenty of skill and tons of potential. Now, the potential was gone. Fully realized. For how bad he hated her, Spike always had respect for the Slayer. At least in regards to combat, what being the Slayer really was. He hated to admit it, but he doubted any other Slayer in history deserved more admiration than her.

She turned the most recent vampire into a cloud of dust, throwing her hands out to her sides, stake still in her left. "What gives? I thought you wanted to punch something."

"Think I got my fill for the night." It was honest. He was too in his head to want to fight anything, and that was rare but would happen from time to time. The Slayer had got to him, and he was trying to figure everything out. There was a lot of new information to process.

She stared at him, blankly. Not understanding the words he said. Spike let out a soft chuckle. Even the Slayer thought it was weird.

Blame the part of him that was still William, the poof that wanted to write poetry from time to time to this very day. He was the over analyzer. Sometimes, when the demon was fat on satisfaction or distracted, he managed to get his way. And the demon was impressed, confused, rather yet confounded by what it witnessed. Distracted.

The side of him he suppressed and hated wasn't going to get a chance to write any sonnets about the beauty of the Slayer's spin kicks and the ferocity of her punches, but it looked like he would get a chance to think and ponder in relative peace, without the demon screaming so loudly he couldn't hear himself think.

"Okay, let's call it for the- " The Slayer stopped speaking, beginning to walk off. "Ugh, I completely forgot."

Spike turned to look in her direction, eyes falling on her destination. He noticed the flowers and things spread near a grave in the distance, and the fresh dirt. All the signs of a new grave. He followed behind.

She sat down on the top of the gravestone next to the newest, her feet still touching the ground. She looked over at him. "Giles saw it in the paper today. Animal attack, burial was this morning."

Spike nodded, deciding to get comfortable while they waited. He leaned against one of the larger, more elaborate headstones nearby. The expensive, tall, ornate variety. He put a cigarette in his mouth, bringing a lit match up to it before taking the first inhale. He waited, listening for signs of movement in the casket below while his focus remained mostly on Buffy.

She seemed distracted, or at least not in the moment, as she stared off into the distance. He didn't feel the need to break the silence.

A few minutes passed. Right around the time he was going to tell her to call it, he heard a thud. He waited, and within ten or so seconds he heard the vampire starting to bang and hit against the lid of the coffin.

"Moving down there." Spike said.

"Huh?" She said as she turned her head towards him. His words registered eventually. "Oh, okay." Her vision drifted off again.

Spike decided to light up another. Another minute passed. They had a bit of waiting ahead, quite a bit if the vampire woke up particularly disoriented. Climbing out of your own grave wasn't easy. For some reason, he didn't feel like spending the downtime in peaceful silence. It was awkward.

"You got better. A lot better." Spike said. It wasn't a compliment, merely stating facts.

She turned her head to look at him. Something flashed across her face for a second, something intense. Fear maybe? He wasn't sure but it disappeared quickly. "I know." She said, all of a sudden calm and casual like before.

"All that Watcher training must be paying off…" He prodded.

"Yeah, must have." She replied in a disinterested tone. Clearly, she didn't feel like talking on the subject. Too bad, because he did.

"Won't be able to play around this time." He said.

She kept her eyes on him, no response. Waiting for him to continue talking.

"Compliment really." Spike muttered. "Knowing I'll have to give it my all when I kill you. Only fitting that my third Slayer is the stronge- "

"Will you stop?" She said forcefully in his direction.

"What?" He spat back. "Don't like thinking about it?"

"No, I don't." She admitted.

He didn't know what to say. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't know. His eyes fell to the ground for a second. He decided to say the first thing that was coherent and popped into his head.

"Puts a damper on this little ceasefire, eh?"

"Yeah," Her eyes fell for a second, as she decided what to say. "I know. I know what comes next...or, eventually at least."

"Good," escaped his mouth, before he even realized he said it.

"But for now," She added. "I don't want to talk about it. Things are super weird as is."

She described it well, Spike thought. Things were super weird. She had been acting super weird. The whole temporary peace treaty was super weird. Not that long ago, things were normal. He was walking around, wherever he wanted, feasting on whoever he wanted, doing whatever he wanted. And she was doing the same thing, Angelus beside her instead of him, doing her duty night after night.

The lightbulb went off in his head. He thought he found the reason. Angelus.

"Yeah, must be pretty weird…" Spike said.

Again, her only response was looking at him and waiting for him to continue.

"Walking around killing vampires, with a vampire. Like old times, but not at all. I'm not Angelus. Nothing like the git." He clarified.

She shook her head in disagreement, turning her chin away and staring off in the distance. "No, not that. I don't miss Angel."

She was full of shit...maybe? He was fairly adept at telling when people were lying, the emotion and true feeling behind their words usually betrayed whatever falsehood they were trying to convey. Her words were pretty even, not a hint of sadness, or regret. She was distracted, but he was starting to believe that it wasn't her having daydreams about her nights patrolling with Angel. He decided to send out a feeler, gather a little more information.

"You don't fool me, Slayer. He's pouting around L.A., saw it myself. And you're stuck down here, without him, can't be with him, ever, pouting around and mourning him."

"No." She replied. "I mourn, yeah. But I don't mourn him."

Bollocks, she was acting weird.

He believed her for some reason, but damn she was acting weird.

The sound of splintering wood made its way to Spike's ears. The vampire was almost free, only another minute. Turning his gaze back to Buffy, he noticed she was staring off again. Not particularly concerned with the demon about to crawl its way to the surface, not particularly concerned with any of her surroundings. Distracted.

Spike decided to wait quietly for the demon to come up and say hello.